We're Both Heroes
by we-bears-babygirl
Summary: Peter was sent by the Company to bring back the prisoners of 33.1. After seeing Lex's true colors, he can't help but wonder if the dark-haired farmboy was right to hate him. He didn't think much of Clark Kent, until he took his powers...Now with the Company after Clark, how can he protect this man of steel from becoming a lab rat? *Slash* *Premature Combustion...ha!*
1. Chapter 1

The silence that filled the room was thick with tension after Nathan calmly laid a sealed file, one of many he said, on the table in front of him. Peter picked up the folder, breaking the seal, before flipping it open. In the folder was a large glossy photo of a man with wavy shoulder-length hair, his pouty, almost swollen, lips the first thing Peter notices about the man, but as he read, the image took on a dark, foreboding chill.

"Ma is at it again," Nathan declared after a tense moment. "There are dozens other like this locked away somewhere. The Company is trying to track down the man responsible so they can negotiate some kind of agreement."

Peter shook his head, grimacing. "These medical tests have nothing to do with," he looked at the patient's name, "Mikhail Mxy-uh, Mxyz-ugh, never mind. This is torture!"

Nathan held up a hand, silencing Peter, looking at him as if he was a child spoken out of turn. "You're right, Pete. That's why Ma is trying to get them transferred-"

"Transferred," Peter scoffed. His distaste with the Company was no secret. It finally drove the last wedge between him and his lovely mother. He hadn't spoken to Angela Petrelli in a few months. It was a surprise alone that he found Nathan at his door, wanting to talk. He let Nathan in reluctantly, but changed his attitude when he saw the stolen file and Nathan's grim look of determination.

"Yes," Nathan answered, unfazed, "transferred. Whoever is doing this is showing an obvious sense of malice."

"While you people offer a five-star resort? Level 5 is not a better place for these people, Nathan. They should be set free, taught how to control themselves." He dropped the photo on the table. Mikhail's face stared up at him with a dead look in his eyes. If this man was anyone before they took him, it was gone now.

"Pete, read the file. This man has the ability to compel you to do anything by his voice alone. He'd rigged countless casinos and sports games to make some quick cash. He was a criminal."

"I've killed people, stole, kidnapped, and God knows what else because of my powers. Does that mean I should be tortured? Have my rights taken away?!" He didn't mean to snap, but Nathan has always had a way to rile him up, making him feel like the petulant child Nathan thought he was.

Nathan sighed, "It's not like that, Pete." He sighed again, sounding weary. "Ma wants your help. She wants you to track this guy down, and find out what he wants in exchange for the prisoners. The Company has to be a better option than this, right?" Peter looked down at the file again, reading the long list of procedures that was done to this man. Each one sounded more invasive and painful than the last.

Peter shook his head. "Why can't she send Bennett? Isn't he back on her payroll now? Or Rene?"

Nathan frowned, "Noah is working with Rene. They're tracking down a special in Maine. We've narrowed the location to Metropolis in Kansas. We're just a small leap away from finding the person behind this." Peter jumped when Nathan's phone started ringing. He didn't put it past his mother to be on the other side. She had probably timed the call to that exact moment, being able to dream the future. Nathan pulled the phone out of his pocket, checking the ID before answering, "Hi, Ma, we were just—What? Yeah, I remember him, what about-? I'm at Peter's now. No, it's alright. I'll tell him. He's agreed to go, Ma." The lie fell out of Nathan's mouth with such ease and grace that Peter scowled. He never did like how well the man could lie to the ones he supposedly loved. Peter loved Nathan with every fiber of his being, which made him a terrible liar around him.

"Don't worry, Ma. I'll handle it. Alright. Love you, too, Ma. Bye" He hung up the phone before glaring at Peter from across the table. "Ma found the man responsible. Do you remember your days at school, Pete?" Peter couldn't help but flinch. How could he not? He was publically labelled as the family embarrassment. "It appears your little friend is involved. Lex Luthor."

The name yanked in the nurse's gut and made his breath rush out in a whoosh. "Lex? I haven't seen him since…"

"Yeah, Pete, I know. They found a paper trail that leads to his company." Nathan let the sentence hang in the air, before he cleared his throat. "So, are you still refusing?"

"Why?" Peter asked, offended. "You think just because Lex is involved I'm going to go running? Forget it." He stood, ignoring the scrape of Nathan's chair as he jumped up. He turned his back to his older brother, walking into his bedroom.

"Ma thinks you're going." Nathan called from the sitting room. Peter snorted as he pulled out his EMT uniform. "She's counting on you to help us. You can choose any ability you want to take with you." Peter snorted again.

"One power?! Really?!" He heard Nathan's sigh, the words 'irritating' and 'naïve' being mumbled under his breath. "Look," he finally said, "I'll go to see if Lex is really behind this, but I don't think it's him." He moved into the doorway to look at his brother. "I knew him, Nathan. He was a good guy. A little messed up, yeah, but you remember, his father was a nasty bastard. Back then, that was something me and him had in common."

"Pete," Nathan started, but huffed in frustration. "We need you." Peter rolled his eyes as he yanked off his shirt, buttoning his uniform shirt on over his tank. He turned his back to Nathan, before changing pants, sitting on the bed to lace up his work boots.

Peter sighed, ruffling his hair. "Fine. I'll pack. Just let me know…"

"Pack now. After we track down the person you want to borrow from-"

"I already have the power I'd want. Claire met me at the hospital the other day after I twisted my ankle on the subway. That's the best power I could have right now. There's no telling what I'll find in Metropolis." Nathan smiled, a little too smug for Peter's liking.

"Good. Then pack, we're leaving in an hour. We already have reservations for you set up at a hotel close to LexCorp."

Peter jumped to his feet, grabbing Nathan's shoulder before he made it to the door. "Wait, what about my shift tonight? I do have a job."

"Already taken care of. Family emergency. You'll be off work for the next month." Peter stood, stunned once again by his family's ability to overlook the little things, like willpower.

"Was there any version of this visit where I would say no, and you respected it?"

Nathan smiled again, his fake plastic smile that he wore at press conferences and charity events. "There's people who need saving, Pete. They need a hero. Like you."

Peter winced. He tried, but there was so much more he could, he _should_ , do. After possessing an array of life-changing powers, having them one at a time was torture. More than once, he came across a situation where if he had just one more ability, he could have changed a person's life.

"I'm no hero, Nathan. I just do what's right. And that," he gestured to the picture lying on his table, "isn't right. Meet me on the roof. I'll go pack." He turned away before he could see Nathan's predatory grin. He yanked off his work shirt, keeping the pants and boots on as he changed into a long-sleeved tee, packing his duffel for a few weeks. He heard the door shut after a minute and Nathan walk away down the hall. Peter let himself drop down on the bed, cradling his head in his hands. He felt bone-deep exhausted. Of course, with Claire's power, physical exhaustion was just a distant memory, but he felt so emotionally drained of dealing with his family. He couldn't understand why Nathan and his mother continue to use him over and over again, and then toss him aside when they were done. And if the future was any indication, it was only going to get worse. His future self being scarred, physically and emotionally, turning into a cold, ruthless shell of a man. No matter what future he comes from, the result is always the same. His spirit is destined to break, to shatter, if he doesn't find some solace from the constant betrayal and lying of the Petrelli family.

He wished that somewhere he would find someone warm and loving. Who would treasure him and treat him as more than a weapon, more than an object. Someone strong and confident, like Simone, but also kind and honest, like Caitlyn. His heart ached as he thought about them. It was only during the late hours of the night, when he was aching and sore from a day of saving lives that he allowed himself to think about them. He vowed, no more. If he ever fell in love again, it would be someone with abilities, someone who could protect themselves, if anyone at all. If he was to bring anyone into his world, he was bringing them into his dark world of violence and danger. He couldn't risk losing another person he loved to the constant battles they had. He needed someone strong, who could fight their own fights. Someone he didn't _have_ to protect, but _want_ to protect.

He pulled himself away from those thoughts before they sent him down another spiral of guilt and loneliness. His mind was still torturing him with images of the women he lost as he finished packing. Half the pants in his dresser, kissing Simone under her umbrella in the rain. His toothbrush from the bathroom, Caitlyn cleaning the blood off his skin after getting his face beat in by her brother. They saw him as their hero, but then he couldn't live up to it. He failed them. Never again. He actually wouldn't be too put off if his new lover would be _his_ hero every now and then.

The autumn air chilled Peter as he stepped out on to the roof, his duffel slung over his shoulder. Nathan was waiting, his arms crossed, at the edge, looking out over New York. Peter's apartment offered a modest view of the Brooklyn Bridge from the roof. The lights twinkled over the reflective water like fireflies and the constant chaos of car horns and sirens blaring through the crisp air.

"This doesn't mean I'm one of Ma's agents." Peter grumbled, stepping up beside his brother. Nathan nodded once, frowning.

"You do what you have to, Pete." Without saying anything else, Peter wrapped his arms around his brother, gripping tightly, closing his eyes against the familiar scent of aftershave and mint. Nathan popped breath mints like candy. He didn't like anyone to know of his addiction to breath mints, but Peter couldn't help but notice after finding a five-pound bag of Lifesavers in Nathan's desk. He could only guess that Nathan had a fear of bad breath.

With a rush of wind, Nathan took off from the roof. Peter had to stop himself from taking Nathan's power for himself. He missed flying. The feeling of freedom when he would take off into the sky, nothing around him. Weightless, without any pressure or obligations pressing in around him, where he could finally breathe. He clung to his brother, forcing himself to keep Claire's regeneration. Albeit, it wasn't Mohinder's strength or Sylar's telekinesis, but it was something safe to have when going into the unexpected.

* * *

The world rushed under them in a flurry of lights as the thick cities gave way to small towns dotted miles apart. Nathan lowered them down in a rising city where there were still sirens and people shouting, but not the overwhelming symphony of New York. The smells of car exhaust and rain assaulted his senses as they landed in a dark alley next to a place called the Daily Planet. Peter stumbled, finding his balance as Nathan adjusted his suit, stretching his shoulders after holding his brother in flight.

"Pete," he held out his hand and Peter took it, their forearms clasped together in a brotherly embrace. "Your room 582 at the Majesty Hotel. It's under your name. LexCorp is around the corner from there. Lex leaves the building around six in the evening. He has guards all around him so you need to get creative." The next sentence he uttered was with a smirk and his voice was slightly acidic. "You've charmed Lex once, I'm pretty sure you can do it again."

Peter smiled back, tightly, resisting the urge to claw his older brother's arm. "I'll figure it out. Don't worry about me."

Nathan nodded, dropping his hand. He fished a business card out of his pocket. "If he's willing to make a deal, hand him this card. Ma will handle the negotiations. All you have to do is get him interested."

"And woo him with dinner and a blowjob if that doesn't work." Peter finished dryly, rolling his eyes. "I get it, Nathan, but I don't think he's the one behind it. He hated everything about Lionel's world growing up. I don't see how he could become his father."

"Of course not, Pete." Nathan agreed with a smile. "You don't understand the pressure a father puts on his heir. Lex was Lionel's sole focus. You were always on the outside, it's understandable. Just keep in mind the trail leads to him. If he isn't behind this, he knows the person who is." Nathan patted Peter's shoulder, taking a deep breath. "Just be careful, okay? Luthor is the center of hostile takeovers and shady deals. He's ruthless. I've met men like him, Peter. Never let your guard down, understand?"

Peter nodded, but frankly this routine act of talking down to him like he was five was getting old. "I'll be careful. I love you, Nathan."

Nathan's expression remained plastic, but his eyes warmed. "I love you, too, Peter. Call me if you run into trouble." With a quick hug, he took off. Peter watched his brother rise above the city, past the lights, past the buildings, until he was a dot in the night sky. Then suddenly, he vanished, and so did the weightless feeling in Peter's gut. He felt the weight of his life crash on his shoulders, making him slouch, as he adjusted the strap of his bag, turning to run across the street to the Majesty.

* * *

LexCorp, formerly LuthorCorp, was a sleek, modern structure set in an upscale corner of Metropolis. Peter waited across the street as the sun set in the west, throwing rays of red and orange across the massive silver tower. The suits walking out of the building made him realize he was horribly underdressed to see his one-time friend. He hoped Lex still hated the pomp and circumstance associated with business tycoons. He would hate to be turned away because all he packed were jeans and t-shirts.

Someone else was watching the tower. He was tall and broad shouldered. Peter looked over at him more than once, and he felt the man look at him once or twice, too. The man wore worn jeans and work boots, with a flannel checkered shirt and a dark blue jacket. Peter was too far from him to get any clear details about his face, but his thick wavy hair and his large body was enough to snag Peter's attention.

Peter never even thought about other men since his fiasco with Lex, but then again, this guy watching him didn't seem like just any other man. The man glanced at him, again, and Peter caught him out of the corner of his eye. The feel of his gaze on him caused a flush to crawl up his neck, but he ignored it as security guards gathered around the door. In his peripheral, he noticed the other man tense.

The sight of a bald head spurred him into action as he rushed across the street, narrowly avoiding a cab as he came closer. He opened his mouth to call his name, but someone beat him to it.

"Lex!" The guy called, getting the billionaire's attention instantly. Security crowded Lex, but the man waved them off. The guy in the flannel approached him, his shoulders back and his posture rigid. Peter rushed forward getting between them before this guy could piss Lex off.

"Lex!" He called. "Lex, hey." Lex turned to see who called and his brows drew in confusion.

"Peter? Peter Petrelli?" A small smile broke out on his face as he accepted Peter's hug. Peter was grinning broadly as he pulled away, for now ignoring the glare the tall mountain of a man was giving his back. "How are you, Peter?" Peter moved to answer, but the tall man cut him off.

"Lex, we need to talk." He snapped, his deep voice sharp with suppressed animosity. The tone made Peter shiver. Lex didn't seem fazed as he met the man's glare head-on.

"Clark, I'm pretty sure even the Mrs. Kent taught you to wait your turn." He turned back to Peter, the friendly smile still in place. "We should catch up. It's been years. Do you have a car?"

Peter shook his head. "No, just got into town actually. I'm staying at the Majesty."

"It's important, Lex." The man, Clark Kent, insisted, his voice hard and his posture like stone. When Peter finally looked up at him, his emerald eyes looked like stone, too. Peter drew in on himself when that hard gaze met his. A blush blossomed high on his cheeks.

Lex's shoulders tensed and his expression wasn't as warm as before. "Fine, Clark. You'll get your talk. You know where to find me. Until then, I have other plans. Peter?" He asked, turning away from Clark. "Would you like to join me for dinner? There's a place not far from here that I'm sure you'll enjoy."

Peter smiled, "Sure, no problem, if I'm not underdressed, that is."

Lex laughed, and Peter was strangely reminded of how Nathan laughs when he's wooing voters and business associates. "Not at all. Peter Petrelli could wear a garbage bag and pass it off as the newest craze."

"I doubt it." He said, the blush growing deeper on his cheeks. Lex Luthor was always a charmer. The billionaire gestured to the car waiting for him.

"Hop in. I just need a quick word with Mr. Kent here." Peter nodded, sliding into the backseat of the car. Lex shut the door behind him, leaning on it with a hand braced on the door as Clark came closer. The stare he pinned Lex with made Peter shudder. Clark looked like a nice guy from a distance, but up close he was almost scary. Peter forced himself to quit shivering. He faced down Sylar and lived to talk about it. This guy in the flannel shouldn't be any worse.

Their conversation was tense, their body language speaking of a nasty rivalry and their sentences were short and clipped. Peter could barely hear the muffled tone of their voices and that alone was ice cold. Clark looked scary, but Lex at the moment looked downright sinister. It's no wonder why he was the poster-boy for hostile takeovers.

Clark sneered and walked away, bounding across the streets in long strides. People jumped out of his way as he passed, but it didn't seem that he noticed them. Lex opened the door and slid into the seat beside Peter, the tightness around his eyes that only evidence of the terse interaction.

"I apologize for that. That was a friend I used to have in Smallville, a town outside of here. He and I didn't part on good terms." He leaned forward, giving an address to his driver, before relaxing back beside the empath. Peter could feel the vibes of tension and frustration coming off of Lex.

Peter shifted in his seat. He didn't expect Lex to be so welcoming to him. Especially after how their friendship ended. "It's alright. Whatever it was, it must have been important. He seems like an okay guy."

Lex nodded, but didn't comment, instead he gave Peter a calculating stare. "Now that we're alone, Peter. Tell me the real reason you're here. The youngest Petrelli doesn't just suddenly show up to catch up with an old flame." Peter's heart dropped when Lex's warm eyes turned hard. "Does this have anything to do with the security breach at one of my facilities last week? Has Mama Petrelli sent her youngest son to spy on me?"

"No," Peter replied, but his voice came out too timid for his liking. Lex frowned, his eyes taking in Peter from head to toe. Peter fought the urge to fidget under his scrutiny. "The people who sent me didn't send me to spy." He turned in his seat to face Lex, keeping as much distance as he could between them. Lex was as much a fighter as he was a charmer, and like his charm, he fought mercilessly. "They want to make a deal. They know you have," Lex's eyes darted between Peter and the driver, his stare intense. Peter nodded. "They know about what you're doing and who you have. They want what you have and they're willing to negotiate for it. They asked me to come here…"

"To sweeten the deal? It's no coincidence they sent you here, Peter." His tone was biting and it hurt Peter to hear it, but he didn't let it show.

"No, they didn't." He certainly hoped they didn't. He wouldn't put it past his mother to offer him up like a common slut, though. "I wouldn't do that even if they asked. You were my first and last."

Something passed behind Lex's eyes at that, but it vanished. "How noble of you, Peter. Arthur managed to scare you straight, after all."

"Hardly," he snapped. "You know I'm picky about who I'm with." _The standard is even higher now,_ he thought bitterly, _now that I have to find someone who won't die after sleeping with me._ "I'm not saying this to flatter you, but after everything between us, it set the bar pretty high for other men."

Lex laughed then, a chuckle that chilled Peter's blood. "I can imagine. I wasn't exactly the blushing virgin you were." The words were a slap to his ego and he knew it. Peter was suddenly wondering if he'd been wrong. Could this man have become the heartless tycoon everyone thinks he is? Was he actually capable of the stuff he read in that file?

"Are you keeping those people, Lex?" He hissed, checking to see if the driver was listening. "I saw what happened to one of them and I don't see how you could allow that to happen. Half of the things they did to that man was torture. It's a miracle he didn't die."

Any trace Peter saw of the man he knew disappeared in the blink of an eye, and Peter recoiled as if he slapped him. The Lex Luthor underneath had cold, flinty eyes, all remnants of blue solidifying into a lifeless gray. His jaw was taut and a thin frown on his mouth. Peter imagined the sound of Lex's heart stilling, vanishing as if it was another illusion.

"I'm not the brain-dead kid you knew in school, Peter. I've grown up, took over my father's corporation, and became one of the most feared billionaires on the planet. In order to do that, though, you've got to get a little blood on your hands." Peter was horrified. He felt the car slow down and stop, and it took everything in him to stay in place, to not jump out of the car and run. Lex leaned forward, into Peter's personal space. Before Peter could flinch or tell him to back off, he felt Lex's fingers dip into the breast pocket of his jacket, pulling out the business card Nathan gave him. "If these people have something I want, I'll consider the offer. Be sure to tell your mother her little whore wasn't necessary." He pocketed the card, ignoring Peter's pale face or his glare. "The Majesty is a block over. I suggest you leave tonight. This city is quite dangerous to those who aren't wanted. Trust me."

Peter finally gave in to the urge to get out of the car, slamming the door behind him. The window hissed as it rolled down. "Peter," Lex called again. "It was nice to see you again." The friendly tone he used before was now artificially sweet and laced with poison. "If you're ever in Metropolis to catch up for old time's sake, please know my door is always open." The window rolled back up and the car sped off. The air chilled Peter to the bone as he walked back to the hotel, repeatedly looking over his shoulder at where Lex's car had been.

He knew he'd just been threatened. The warning was loud and clear. Twelve hours to leave or else. The thing was, now that Peter knew the truth, leaving was the last thing on his mind. He now knew why Clark was so cold towards Lex. You had to be if you didn't want to walk away feeling like you've been turned inside out, like Peter. He didn't think he was sent here as a perk. He said it himself, but he didn't actually think his mother was whoring him out. But Lex saw the move for what it was, and Lex had always been the smart one.

He fished out his cell phone, the heated air in the hotel lobby doing nothing for the chill under his skin, and dialed Nathan's number. It rang in Peter's ear as he entered the elevator. Nathan didn't pick up until Peter was unlocking the door to his room.

" _Pete?"_ Nathan's voice was thick over the line. Peter checked his watch. It was seven-thirty there, which meant it was half past nine in New York. Peter shook his head as he closed the room's door behind him. Another drinking night. Nathan was doing those too often to be okay.

"Are you alright, Nathan?"

"' _Course I'm…"_ He slurred. _"Just had a little too much with dinner. Wassup?"_

Peter dropped onto the couch, looking around the opulent suite, feeling too open, too exposed. "I just saw Lex. He's…different."

" _Ho'so?"_ Peter rolled his eyes, feeling a headache creep behind his eyes.

"The words evil and cold-blooded comes to mind. He took Ma's card, but also told me to get the hell out of town, or else. I don't know what Lionel did to him, but he's changed. He was so nice when I knew him."

Nathan sighed heavily over the line, the sigh ending in a hiccup. " _Time changes people, Pete-y. Look at all of us. You used to be bullied for being a shy crybaby, but then you grew up to be one of the most powerful specials in the world."_

"You had to go there?" Peter teased, feeling warmed by Nathan's words. He couldn't help but feel a small sense of irony when the 'kid with nothing to offer' became powerful enough to destroy New York City, but now that's come and gone, he's now the 'kid who offers what he has at the time'.

He could hear shuffling over the line, probably from Nathan filling another glass with scotch before stilling. His voice was gruff as he spoke again. _"You're not coming home, yet, are you, Pete?"_

Peter rubbed his eyes, pressing hard until little spots broke out over his vision. It cleared the pain in his head but only a little. "No, I'm not. I'll have to move, though. If Lex is anything like what I saw today, he'll be sending someone to follow me." He stood, walking over to the window to look out over the street. Already there was a black SUV parked across from the hotel. He barely caught a glimpse of binoculars on the dash before the truck sped off. "Nathan," he said, unsure. "It's a good thing I saw Claire when I did. Lex scares the hell out of me."

" _Don't worry, Pete."_ The assurance was clear as a bell. Nathan couldn't be trusted for a lot of things, but when it came to people threatening his loved ones, he pulled through. " _I'll talk to Ma and get Bennett out there for you. If we knew how far this operation went back, we could use the Haitian, but we can't take any risks."_

Peter nodded in agreement. Who knew how long they were experimenting on specials? If Lionel was anything like Arthur, it could have been going on since Lex was born.

"Nathan?" Peter asked. "Before you go, tell me the truth. Was I sent out here because I was supposed to seduce Lex? Did Ma honestly expect me to do that?"

He heard Nathan sniff. " _I love you, Pete. I'll see you soon."_ The phone clicked and the call died. Peter pulled the phone away from his ear, his stomach in knots. Nathan's aversion was answer enough.

* * *

Clark resisted the thought to go home and shower like he desperately wanted to. Talking to Lex these days made him feel dirty and stupid. All those times he overlooked what Lex was doing for their friendship, and every time, Lex would throw it right back in his face. He wanted to blame Lex's downfall all on Lionel, but he knew their poisonous friendship had something to do with it, too. He couldn't help but to keep coming back to Lex, though. Lex knew what it felt like to be on the outside looking in. What it felt like to be different. He was someone who matched Clark's strength and power, despite being human.

That's all Clark was looking for. Someone like him, who understood why he does the things he does. Someone who could match him on every level, and who accepted him, maybe even loved him, for the way he was. He knew it had to be a lover. A friend, like Chloe, couldn't always be there. Clark wouldn't let her. She needed a normal life. His mom deserved it after raising him, so the next person he revealed his secret to needed to be that special person, the one.

His brief, and embarrassing, crush on Lex had him convinced that Lex was the one, but there was only so many ways to justify betraying the people you love. Clark, being who he is, knew that better than anybody, but what Lex does, what Lex _is,_ is evil.

He wondered if that guy, Peter Petrelli, knew who he got into the car with yesterday. The dinner was obviously short, because Lex was back home at the castle shortly after. Clark didn't hesitate to let himself in his office, the unspoken proof that no matter how many times Lex changes the locks, Clark could always get in, and they talked.

Clark had told Lex about Mikhail. The gambler who nearly killed Chloe was found at the bottom of Crater Lake, his body sliced up and stitched like Frankenstein. The last time anyone ever heard of him was when Lex sent him back to his country, where he never showed up.

He asked Lex if he was one of the prisoners of 33.1, that's when he realized he made a mistake. After that, Lex shut down, giving one-word answers, all the while pinning Clark with the coldest glare he had ever seen.

Now he was running through Metropolis, helping Oliver, or Green Arrow, patrol the streets after Bart broke his arm and dislocated his shoulder. You think someone with super speed would learn never to trip? Oliver said the force sent him flying into a telephone pole, hitting it so hard it fell over onto a car. It was by luck that Oliver found him before the cops did.

He was running through Suicide Slums, his ears perked listening for any trouble. He was at edge of the area, almost to LexCorp when he heard someone cry out. He froze, scanning the streets with his x-ray vision. There, in the parking garage across from Lex's office were five skeletons. One had its hands up, on its knees. Clark moved to speed over there but stopped when he saw something. The kneeling skeleton's ribs were broken, but as Clark watched, the bones knitted themselves back together, coming whole as if nothing happened. The skeleton slowly stood, his hands still held out.

In a blur, Clark sped over there, stopping behind a car nearby to see what was going on. Usually, he would have rushed in head-first, but seeing whoever it was healing like that, he wasn't sure whose side he should be on. He flicked off his x-ray vision and saw that four of the men were large walls of muscle, clad in black clothes and hoods. One had a serrated blade tucked in his belt, two of them had a gun, and the last was cracking his knuckles, which had blood on them. The fifth person in the middle shocked Clark. It was Peter Petrelli. His clothes were stretched out and torn in places, the tears soaked in blood. Splatters of blood was on his jeans and shoes. His face was dirty and a trail of blood ran from his nose, but he looked unharmed. Of course, the healing Clark just saw could be why.

"He's one of those freaks!" The bloody thug snapped, pushing Peter into the black SUV behind him. Peter stood tall, staring the man in the eyes, ignoring the three men surrounding them. The second man pulled out his blade, tossing it back and forth between his hands.

"Wonder how much we can do before he stops healing. Seems like that's all he can do, right, pretty boy?" Peter turned to glare at the mugger.

"Fuck off!" He spat. Clark couldn't decide if that was brave or stupid, but then again, he was stepping away from the car, standing in the center of the darkened garage.

"Let him go." He called in a loud voice. The men surrounding Peter whipped around to look at Clark. Peter squinted to see who it was, but when he did, he looked surprised.

One of the men pulled out their gun, aiming it at Clark. Clark watched him do it, with no reaction. "Get lost, dumbass, before we kill you, too!"

Clark stepped forward, ignoring the others pulling their weapons. The man closest to Peter took the other's blade, pulling Peter in front of him, and holding the blade to his neck. Peter gasped, trying to pull away, but the man held him tighter, nicking his neck in the process. The wound sealed closed almost as soon as it opened.

"Walk away, man." The one holding Peter said. "We've got no problems with you. We just want this one right here."

"Get the fuck off of me!" Peter hissed, struggling. He cried out as the blade bit into his neck, blood welling up and dripping onto his collar. Clark took an involuntary step forward. "Ah, that's a warning!" Clark stopped. There were two guns on him now. The one who originally had the blade smirked before unlocking the doors to the SUV.

"Let's take a ride, boys. Pretty boy here can come, too." He called to the others as he opened the back door. Clark started forward again, but the guy pressed the blade in deeper, causing Peter to hiss.

"You stay right there, boy. Don't you move or this one gets it." Clark stayed where he was, hands held out away from his body. He watched the driver hop into the car and the other wrestle Peter into the backseat. Peter called Clark's name, but Clark kept his eye on the thugs with the guns, waiting until Peter was out of sight before-

He sped to the nearest one, plucking the gun out of his hand and tossing him into the wall. He moved to the other, throwing him into the cars across the lot. He quickly sped around to the driver's side, slamming the driver's head into the steering wheel, before he climbed into the backseat, knocking the blade out of the thug's hands, and throwing him out of the car. In his speed, he saw the look of defiance and determination on his face. Even with a knife to his throat, he was planning to go down fighting.

He sped back out of the car, back to where he was, hands held out beside him, as time reverted to normal. The three men simultaneously crashed to the floor, unconscious, and the horn in the SUV blared as the thug's forehead pressed into it. The SUV jostled a bit before Peter stuck his head out, blood coating his neck, but no wound. He looked around bewildered. He caught sight of Clark, smiling crookedly, before running over to him.

"That was amazing." He said, the left corner of his mouth tugging on his grin. "How did you do that? Speed? Did you stop time? Telekinesis?"

"What?" Clark smiled, trying to color his tone with surprise. "What happened? I mean, one minute you were being thrown into the truck…What just happened?"

Peter's brows furrowed, his smile fading. _Too bad,_ Clark thought, _He had a cute smile._ "Seriously? You don't know what just happened? That wasn't you?"

"No," Clark tried to sound incredulous, but the look in Peter's eyes made his lie so obvious. Peter then nodded, leaning in closer to Clark. Clark then caught a whiff of spice and warmth underneath the copper tang of blood. The smell made his body feel light, and the penetrating look Peter was giving him made his palms sweat.

"It's okay. I'm one of you…" _No, you're not_ , Clark's mind screamed, but he kept his mouth shut. "You have abilities, that no one could possibly dream of. I get it. There are more out there."

"You-" Clark's mouth ran dry and he shifted. "You have abilities?"

Peter nodded. "I can copy other people's powers. Right now, I can heal really fast. It's called cellular regeneration. What can you do? Can you move objects with your mind? Stop time? See the future?"

A click caught Clark's attention. He looked up to see one the thugs lifting their gun.

"Look out!" Peter yelled, pushing Clark to the side, then a shot rang out. Peter grunted, collapsing to the ground.

"Peter!" Clark barked, pulling the man into his arms. He saw the thug aiming again, but before he could fire again, Clark lifted Peter and sped away, not stopping until he reached an alleyway on the other side of town. He cradled Peter in his arms as he lowered him gently to the ground. Peter groaned, curling in on himself, cursing under his breath.

"Ah! Motherfucker!" He said through gritted teeth as he moved up to his hands and knees, his head hanging down. Clark kneeled beside him, rubbing Peter's back absently, as the man coughed wetly and swore in pain.

After a few minutes of grunting and hissing, a metallic clink hit the ground under Peter and Peter sighed.

"Damn." He breathed. "Punctured a lung. Hurts like a bitch."

"Are you okay?" Clark asked, helping Peter sit up. Peter gave him a thumbs up, leaning against the wall of the alley. When he lifted his head up to look around, he chuckled.

"So, speed. It didn't feel like teleporting." He straightened up, stretching his muscles, bending further back than Clark expected him to, sighing in relief. "If you're keeping your powers a secret, I don't blame you. That must be why you went to see Lex."

Clark tensed, crossing his arms. "What do you know about Lex?"

Peter laughed again, but it sounded bitter. "Not as much as I used to, or so I've been told." He grimaced, pressing a tender spot under his ribs. "He's been collecting people like us, other specials. He's experimenting on them. I came here to help them."

Clark came closer to Peter, ignoring the spicy scent of the man wafting around him. "How do you know Lex? He said you were old friends." The look of hurt that crossed Peter's face told him enough, and he felt a little…jealous? Of Lex?

"Yeah, you could say that. We knew each other the way any rich kids know each other. Charity balls, country clubs, social mixers, you name it. Lex and I met while I was in nursing school. Our fathers didn't like it so they called it off. Simple." Clark could feel the lie hanging between them, but it wasn't his place to ask anything else. Instead, he took a closer look at Peter. The first thing he noticed were his eyes. They looked almost black in the night, but they looked bottomless and sparkled like the stars he watched through his telescope in the loft. His skin was crusted with blood and his hair stuck with it, the weighted strands hanging in his face. Peter pushed them back, as if it was a life-long habit.

He looked at Peter's neck, still thickly coated in blood, and his shirt was in tatters. Peter shivered as a breeze blew past them. Fall was a bitter time of year in Kansas. "Here," Clark offered, pulling off his red jacket. He wrapped around Peter's shoulders. Peter tried to politely shrug it off. "Keep it on for now. I don't need it really." Peter watched Clark cautiously, holding the jacket awkwardly across his arms, but then he gave him a small smile, shoving his arms through the sleeves.

"Thanks," He eventually said. The jacket swallowed his thin body, the sleeves dropping past his hands. A blush crept up Peter's cheeks as he rolled up the sleeves. His smile faltered when he saw a rip in Clark's shirt. "There's a hole in your shirt. Are you hurt?" He quickly moved the shirt aside, feeling the skin underneath for any wounds. "Did you get shot or…?"

A trail of bright light travelled up Peter's arm, the force of it shoving Peter back into the wall, his mouth open in a silent cry. Clark grabbed his shoulders, taking care of the fragile body in his hands as Peter thrashed and keened in his throat.

"Peter?" Clark called. Peter's eyes were screwed shut, his lips pressed shut, as if he was trying to hold back screaming. Clark was frightened. What did he do to him? Was this a new ability? Or was it Peter? "Peter?! Talk to me!"

"Clark!" Peter gasped, his body seizing. His knees buckled, causing him to fall against Clark. Peter clung to him, panting. Clark felt Peter's body against his shift. The muscle and bone under his hands felt like they were hardening, solidifying. Peter was also growing heavier, his weight actually pulling Clark's strength as he bucked.

The spasming in his body grew wilder and his face relaxed, going slack as if unconscious. Then his eyes snapped open, and he started screaming. Clark heard voices approaching, concerned people coming to investigate. He somehow knew Peter wouldn't want them to see him. To see either of them. Picking Peter up, he grunted under the strain. There must be Kryptonite or something nearby. There was no way Peter was getting heavier. Before the first bystander rounded the corner, he sped away.

He ran back to Smallville, not knowing where else to go, and took Peter into the farmhouse. Peter jerked wildly, screaming himself hoarse, as Clark lowered him to the couch. Now that he saw Peter in the light, he noticed his skin was pale and sweaty. The veins in his neck stood out and the skin seemed to move like there were things crawling underneath it.

"Clark." Peter whimpered again. He jerked a few more times, then stilled, panting for breath. He slumped, boneless, into the couch, his eyes shut. His breathing evened out and Clark could tell he passed out.

He then noticed his own knuckles were white where they were gripping Peter's arm. He yanked his hands away, horrified. He could have crushed Peter bones to dust. He quickly scanned Peter's arm, breathing a sigh of relief when the bones were still intact. They looked thicker than normal bones, but that could be him imagining things. Peter keened in his sleep, twitching, and Clark brushed Peter's hair back from his head.

He wanted to ask what the hell just happened, but Peter was unconscious, and his mother was in Washington. Oliver was still on patrol and Chloe was working. He was on his own for now.

He went to the kitchen, wetting a couple of rags. He brought the cloths into the living room, pulling the overstuffed reading chair over to the couch to sit on while he dabbed at the blood on Peter's face. He carefully cleaned the blood off of his jaw, tossing the rag aside to use another to mop up the thick mess on his neck. He twitched under Clark as he grazed his collarbone. When he reached the pulse in Peter's neck, he noticed it was hammering under his skin, too fast to be okay.

He threw the dirty rags on to the coffee table, using a dry cloth to wipe away the moisture on his skin. Peter shifted again, whining in his throat. Clark yanked his hand away. Peter moved more, his groans getting louder as he slowly opened his eyes. In the light, Clark noticed his eyes were brown. Brown with bursts of gold and bronze. They were still bottomless and they were still shimmering, but right now, they were also afraid.

"What are you?" He asked, but the tone was not accusing or frightened. It was curious. "You're not a special like me. You're different. I felt your power. It's completely different from anything I've seen before."

Clark squirmed under his stare. He felt like a bug pinned to the wall. "I-uh, I'm not from around here."

Peter raised his eyebrows, "And?" Clark jumped to his feet, wanting to move, to get out of there. He had just met this guy. Abilities or no abilities, he needed to get out of there before he spilled everything.

"I'll be right back." He moved to rush out of the door.

"Wait!" Peter jumped up, grabbing Clark's shoulder. Clark tried to shrug it off, but Peter's grip held firm. Clark froze. He tried again, but still, nothing. "I can't let you leave. I need answers."

This time, Clark grabbed Peter's wrist, gradually using more and more strength as he tried to pry the hand off his shoulder. He finally made Peter let go, but the effort left him panting. Peter watched him confused, as Clark looked at him in shock.

"You have my strength. That's why you were heavy." The words rushed out of his mouth before he could stop them. Peter's eyes widened, then shined in understanding.

"You have strength, too?" Clark nodded, finding no need in lying now. Peter looked away from Clark, staring into space, before suddenly Peter sped, appearing at the top of the stairs. He laughed, almost giggled, in glee as he descended the stairs at human speed. "I have both! I have both of your powers!"

Clark's blood turned to ice. "What?! No! You can't have them all. You can't handle it!"

"All?" Peter asked, walking back up to Clark. Clark's body towered over Peter's and Peter seemed to notice that as he came inches away from him. "How many abilities do you have? I can only take one at a time." The words ran down Clark's back like ice. "What are you, Clark? This isn't just genetic mutation. This is something else entirely." Then Peter's eyes lit with understanding. "Clark? You're not human, are you?"

Before Clark knew what he was doing, he sped Peter over to the wall, pinning him. Peter struggled under his grip. Clark held him, but it took every ounce of his strength to do so. Peter kicked out and pushed against Clark, but he gave up when he saw it was useless.

He held up his hands in surrender, "Okay, Clark, you win. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have blurted it out like that. But I have your powers now, so your secret will be safe with me. I promise. I just got excited. It's been a while since I had more than one power."

Clark didn't budge. If anything, he moved closer, pinning Peter's shoulders with his arm and wedging a knee between his legs, preventing another kick to his knees. With Peter's new strength, he's bound to wake up with bruises tomorrow.

"Clark," Peter said again, his voice rough, "I promise. I won't tell anybody. You don't even have to tell me anything. I just wanted to help." The gold in Peter's eyes shone and his face was projecting sincerity and trust. Instead of pushing Clark, he held the arms pinning him. His legs hung limp on either side of Clark's, his struggles a vague memory. Clark saw Peter looking around at their position and at Clark's face. He searched Clark's face, his expression open. Clark eased the pressure on Peter's shoulders, but froze. The gold in Peter's eyes gave way to red as fire swirled in the irises and his breath hitched in his throat, the action ending with a high-pitched whine. "Clark, please."

Clark dropped him, feeling heat build behind his eyes, too.

* * *

Peter screwed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth against the burning. What the hell was wrong with his eyes?! He could feel pressure and burning. He could almost hear his retinas sizzling. Another power of Clark's? If so, then it must be set off by some kink of his. Peter couldn't help himself. The way Clark had him pinned to the wall, his teeth bared and panting with the effort. His strong arms pressed into him, his knee wedged between his legs, where if he lifted it just a little higher…

"Damn!" He hissed, pressing the heel of his palms into his eyes. The burning intensified. He didn't risk opening his eyes. He somehow knew something would happen if he did.

"Peter?" Clark said, timidly. Peter didn't answer. He was afraid to. "Peter," he said again, louder, "You need to calm down. I don't know how to say this, but you need to think about things that turn you off. They'll stop burning if you calm down."

Peter felt his cheeks heat, barely matching the fire behind his eyelids. "Turn me off?" Like sexually?! Peter's mind was racing. This, oddly enough, was the weirdest thing he's ever heard.

He heard heavy footsteps approach before hands like steel grabbed his shoulders. "Yes, right now, with my abilities, you can hurt me, and you can easily destroy the house. You need to control it."

His hands were hot and like a vice on his shoulders. He felt Clark's body heat seep through the jacket he wore. He was still wearing Clark's jacket, and oh God, he could smell Clark all around him. He smelled like hay and the earth after a thunderstorm, calm, safe, with just a hint of danger over the horizon.

Peter swore as his eyes burned hotter. "Let go of me!" He spat, and the hands vanished. He gasped for air, dropping to his knees. He held himself up on all fours. Why the fuck was this so hard?! It should be nothing to control his lust. He's had to do it a million times before and he'll most likely need to do it a million times again, so what was so different about now?

"Peter, you're not thinking about Lex, are you?" Was the cautious question in a gorgeous, deep voice.

It was like dousing Peter in ice cold water. With a gasp, the heat in his eyes disappeared, and he finally felt he could open them without incinerating the house. Clark was kneeling in front of him, concern clear all over his face. Peter laughed before he could stop himself, the laugh declining from humor to a nasty-sounding chuckle.

"You're either a genius or a rotten bastard?" Clark's body sagged with relief and he dropped back on his haunches.

"So Lex was the trick?" The hopeful smirk on Clark's face was pushing the answer into genius territory. Peter nodded, his eyes dried out and sore. He wondered if Clark realized thinking about him was the cause of his loss of control. He had just met the man, but Peter was always the jump first, think later kind of guy. Clark's wistful nod caught his attention, "Yeah, I get that."

"You dated him?" Peter asked before he could stop himself. Clark's face flushed and he shook his head.

"I wanted to when I first knew him, but then he made me realize how wrong I was." Peter slowly sat up, feeling mentally exhausted. It's been so long since he had more than one power. The impact was overwhelming. "What about you?"

Peter smiled, but he knew it wasn't a friendly one. "We hooked up, then ended up all over the tabloids."

Clark nodded once in understanding. "Oh. You have a brother named Nathan, right?" Peter frowned, then, remembering his last conversation with his older brother.

"Yeah."

"I thought so. My mom met him in Washington after taking my dad's seat in the Senate."

"Kent, right?" Clark nodded, his face falling. "Oh," Peter gasped, "You're Johnathan Kent's son? I'm so sorry. I heard about that from Nathan. I'm sorry about your loss."

Clark's breath left in an aborted snort. "Yeah, thanks."

Peter leaned forward, placing his hand on Clark's arm. The heat of the man's skin seared his palm and it seemed to travel all the way to his eyes, but he was too far gone in the man's sad eyes to be affected. He could feel the dull edge of grief in Clark's chest as if it was his own. "I really am, Clark. It's not easy losing a father. I'm sorry." Clark's eyes met his, and he seemed to see Peter's understanding, his same pain. What Clark didn't know was that Peter knew all too well the pain of losing a father, he had to do it twice.

"Thank you, Peter." The room went silent for a moment, before Clark took a deep breath. "You said I was different? That my powers aren't the same as others you've had?" Peter nodded, anticipation rising in his throat. "Well, that may be because I'm the only one like me. When I was really little, there was a meteor shower here in Smallville. It destroyed the town and hurt a lot of people. My ship was part of the shower."

The anticipation burst in Peter's chest and everything it soaked made him numb. Clark couldn't be serious, could he?

"My parents were driving when my ship destroyed the road, causing them to crash. They didn't know what had happened until I found them. They found the ship, wrapped it in a tarp, and took us home. My parents adopted me and helped me learn to hide my abilities so I could have a normal life. The burning in your eyes was my heat vision. It's triggered from…uh, hormones. You already know about my strength and my speed."

"What else?" Oh yeah, Clark was serious. He was dead serious. In a way, though, it made sense. It explained why he took all of his powers instead of just one. It also explained why taking his powers felt like touching a live wire while swimming in a pool of acid. It must have been hell to adapt his genetic makeup to match Clark's! So now he was half-alien? Or full? He didn't seem to be lacking in any of Clark's strength. Could this finally be the power he was waiting for? He doubted there was any way he could fall short of saving someone's life if he was like Clark.

"I can see through solid objects. I can't see through lead, though. I can jump really high. That tallest I've reached was fifteen stories." Peter wished his face wasn't so expressive. He was sure Clark could see the plain shock in his expression. "I can hear my friend Oliver making a phone call to Japan. He's at his penthouse in Metropolis right now. I'm bullet-proof and don't ask how I know this, but my breath is powerful enough to rip the door off the barn." He paused, shifting where he sat, looking up at Peter with a wary look. "Is that too weird?"

Peter shook his head emphatically. "No, it's not. You're talking to someone who once became a nuclear bomb. Extra-terrestrial seems like just another day in my world."

"Our world, right? It seems like you and me come from the same secret world of freaks."

"Specials." Peter corrected. "We call them specials. At least the ones we've found." Then Peter remembered what the thug said in the parking garage. "What did that guy mean? About me being one of 'those freaks'?"

Clark shifted in place again, his shoulders stiffening. "The meteors I came down with. They infected people and gave them abilities. Ever since my friend Chloe started researching them, everyone started calling them 'meteor freaks'. It seems like I've been fighting them ever since I started high school."

"Have you tried helping them?" Peter asked.

Clark shook his head. "By the time I find them, it's too late. Their powers drive them insane. Only a few have been able to adjust and to use them for good. Some didn't have a chance. Around my sophomore year, people started hunting them, collecting them."

"Like Lex." Clark nodded. "My side has a place called the Company."

"Sounds friendly," Clark remarked. Peter smiled.

"Hardly. They pride themselves on being the latest Area 51, made by us, for us. Their policy is one of us," he gestured between him and Clark, "and one of them." He waved a hand towards the general outside world. "It gives them a sort of balance, keeps them from locking us up and throwing away the key."

"Like Lex." Clark said this time. "Do they help people? Like us?"

Peter shook his head, sighing. "Not really. They bag and tag us. They keep tabs on us in case we lose control. Those who are too dangerous are locked up for good. The problem is, they don't know where to draw the line. Just because they are dangerous, doesn't mean they should be thrown away. They should only be locked up if they hurt people." He noticed Clark nodding in agreement. "They've tried to throw me in a cell once or twice, but my mother won't let them. I guess I would be considered dangerous right now." He looked up at Clark then, and the realization was like a flip of a light switch. "They would take you without question. They wouldn't even try to listen to you, if they even left you alive."

Clark's knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists. "Many people have already tried to kill me, only a couple got lucky enough to succeed. I'm very hard to kill."

Peter wasn't surprised. There was another tall, dark, and begrudgingly handsome man that came to mind at that statement. "I can believe it." He let the sentence hang in the air, but then added, "You don't trust me enough for that secret, do you?"

Clark, much to Peter's disappointment, shook his head. "No, I don't. If you find out, it will be the hard way, and I hope, you'd understand then why I won't tell you."

"Then let's hope I stay in the dark."

* * *

Peter winced when the walls and the floors of the building fell away and all he could see were skeletons walking around them. Clark noticed his grimace.

"Heat vision again?" He asked. His expression, when Peter could finally see it, was amused and a tad smug.

Peter shook his head. "No, x-ray. It's actually kind of creepy, seeing nothing but skeletons."

Clark shrugged, his shoulder brushing Peter's in the cramped elevator. "You'll get the hang of it. My powers have triggers just like the ones you talked about. You just need to figure out what they are."

"Right now, I'm just trying to figure out where the hell we are." Peter mumbled. His vision switched to x-ray again, his eyes twinging painfully. As they approached the top floor, he could see the giant gears and cogs of the building's clock, and living room furniture. He saw three skeletons in the room. Two were walking around, appearing to be talking, the other was lying on the couch, his arm showing a clean break near his elbow. Peter winced.

" _Clark?"_ A tinny voice called over the elevator's loudspeaker. Peter jumped, looking around wildly and finally spotting the speaker. Beside it was a security camera, the lens spinning as it zoomed in on them.

Clark stared into the camera with a relaxed posture. "Arrow, mind if we come see you?"

" _Uh…hold on."_ The elevator shuddered as it stopped. Peter's hand shot out to grip Clark's arm. Clark grunted, hissing 'easy' under his breath. Peter let him go with a sheepish smile.

"Sorry," he murmured, his cheeks turning pink. Clark shook his head, still watching the camera.

The voice came back. " _Clark, what is this about? You know I'm not alone here."_

Peter bristled at the man's snippy tone. Did he always talk to Clark like he was an annoying little brother? Peter knew that tone better than anyone. "Impulse and Cyborg can stay. Peter knows about 33.1."

There was an expectant pause where the elevator started to feel too cramped. Peter could barely stay within a foot of Clark without his eyes burning. The man was just unnaturally gorgeous. Peter suppressed a snort. One would say Clark's looks were other-worldly.

The voice on the speaker didn't come back, but the elevator jerked as it started back up to the top floor. Clark concentrated on the roof of the elevator, a frown pulling his face down.

"When the doors open, stay behind me. They don't trust you." His voice was deep and even and it somehow sent a spike of uneasiness in his gut. He willed his vision to switch as he looked at the top floor again. The two standing skeletons faced the doors to the elevator. One had what looked like a bow. The other was holding up some weird pile of machinery. If Peter didn't know any better, he would say that was the guy's arm.

"Get behind me." Clark barked, pushing Peter to the back wall. Peter stumbled under Clark's strength, not expecting to be pulled back so forcefully. The feel of Clark's brute strength made his eyes burn brighter. He squeezed his eyes shut with a curse. The elevator reached the floor with a ding and Clark stepped forward, his shoulders back and his chin high. That alone seemed to make him twice as big, which both intimidated Peter, and turned him on.

"Fuck!" He hissed as fire swirled behind his pupils. Clark ignored him as the doors opened.

There were two men facing the elevator. One was blonde, the green of his t-shirt and his bow matching. His posture was calm and his face was expressionless, but his warm brown eyes hardened when they met Peter's. The other was wearing a silver hoodie over a purple undershirt and he held up his right arm, the sleeve rolled up.

"Clark!" The shorter man warned. "I've had some upgrades since we last saw each other. Don't make me use them!"

"Clark." The blonde said calmly. "Tell us who he is and why he's here." Peter stepped around Clark, his hands held out in surrender. He tried to put a small smile on his face, but it fell when he saw an arc of electricity pulse from the tip of the blonde's arrow.

"I'm Peter," he answered. The blonde's eyes swiftly slid over to him, but the shorter man continued to watch Clark, who they probably thought was the bigger threat. "I don't really know why I'm here," he glanced at Clark, who was watching them both warily. "I came to Metropolis to try to talk to Lex. I'm trying to release the specials he's keeping prisoner."

"I can see how that was a wasted trip." The blonde remarked, smirking. Peter laughed, despite himself, pushing his hair back. The blonde's body relaxed, but his grip on his bow never wavered. Peter would have bet that the man could keep that pose all night if he had to. Peter slowly entered the room, the arrow following his every move. "If you're here to stop Lex, you're more than welcome to tell us what you know, and we'll take care of the rest."

Peter lowered his hands, straightening. "I can't do that. These people need help. They need to learn control. That they can have normal lives with their abilities. I can help them."

The blonde tensed, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What makes you so sure of that, Peter?"

"He's like us," Clark spoke up, striding purposefully up to the blonde. The shorter man stepped up to Clark, holding out his right hand to stop him. Peter felt his jaw go slack when he saw the man actually stop Clark. Clark glared at the man. "I'm not going to hurt any of you guys, you know that."

"Look," Peter said, "I can help. I have abilities. I've already helped people learn to accept and use their abilities for good. I can help them rebuild their lives." The blonde glanced from Peter to Clark. Clark nodded, answering the man's unspoken question. He lowered his bow.

"It's okay, Cyborg. If Boy Scout trusts him, then I think it'll be fine. If not, AC could always drop him off at the Great Barrier Reef." Cyborg chuckled, stepping back away from Clark. Clark glared at the blonde.

"Boy Scout?" Peter asked, a smile breaking on his face when Clark's cheeks reddened.

"It wasn't my idea, believe me." Clark grumbled, turning his back to the men. He then stiffened before rushing over to the couch in the living area, where a short man with spiky, gold hair was asleep. His face was bruised and his arm was wrapped in bandages all the way up to his neck. His shoulder must have been injured, too. "Bart! Are you alright? I heard what happened."

The blonde laughed, wincing when the smile pulled on his swollen cheek. "No big, Clark. You suck at the whole 'secret identity' thing, by the way."

Clark knelt by the couch, reaching out to touch the bandages, but pulled away before his hand made contact. "I trust Peter." He said, giving the other blonde with the bow a pointed look. "He knows everything about me."

That seemed to strike a chord in the men. All of them showed different looks of surprise. "Seriously, Clark?" The man on the couch blurted. "You're like the Fort Knox of secrets, and I've tried breaking in to Fort Knox, it ain't easy!"

Clark looked up at Peter, his jaw set and his eyes shining. "Show them, Peter." Peter nodded, and the man in green aimed his bow at him. Peter smirked.

"Go ahead. Shoot me. I bet you'll miss." He expected the man to hesitate, to argue, but he was proved wrong when he pulled the string taut. Peter barely had a moment to acknowledge the arrow was shot before he sped around them, plucking the arrow out of the air before stopping behind the archer's back. He tapped him on the shoulder. The archer spun, his eyes wide. Peter waved the arrow back and forth between them. "You missed."

" _No way!_ " The injured man exclaimed from the couch. Clark grinned as he used one hand to keep the man lying down. It still didn't stop the younger man from trying to sit up. "That is so cool! Another speed-demon! You and Clark up for a race?! One lap around the globe, last one back buys lunch!"

"Chill out, Bart!" Archer barked, not taking his eyes away from Peter. Peter stared back, keeping his body rigid and immoveable. With Clark's strength, he bet he could easily be unshakeable. The archer finally gave him a reluctant smile, rolling his eyes. "The last thing we need is another Impulse. Speaking of which," He said, turning back towards Clark and Bart. "You're staying on that couch. And after you heal, we're training, and we might get your eyes checked."

"Oh, come on." Bart whined, dropping his head back on the armrest. "It was that asshole's fault. Who the hell cuts off a logging truck? I swear, it was Final Destination all over again. I think the one who should be blamed is Isaac Newton. Because of him, when I tripped while in motion, I fucking stayed in motion. I say when your feet leave the ground, you should stop!"

"Just wait until AC gets back." The darker man warned, sneering. "Your ass is grass when he catches wind of your little mishap."

"Like the little mermaid could catch me," Bart replied in what sounded like an age-old banter. He turned his attention to Peter, who was watching the exchange with faint curiosity. "So, can you do anything else? Or are we just two peas from the same pod?"

"I'm sorry?" Peter asked, confused.

Bart laughed. "I run fast, really fast."

"Faster than Clark," the archer added, with a smirk.

Clark glared at the tall blonde. "Is Peter okay?" He asked, a little irritated. He stood up from beside the couch, patting Bart's good shoulder before stepping away. The archer nodded. "Good." He walked over to Peter, standing beside him to face the others.

Peter caught a whiff of rain and hay, and it made fire swirl in his gut. He squashed it down as Clark gestured to the archer. "Peter, this is Oliver Queen." Queen? As in Queen Industries? Peter remembered hearing about the Queens through his mother. He thought they all had died. "He's the one in charge of his team. This is Cyborg." He pointed to the darker man, who held out his hand.

Even with Clark's strength, he could feel the heavy weight of the man's hand and the pressure of his firm grip. "Huh," he said, letting go of Peter's hand, "so you got strength, too. That would have crushed your hand otherwise."

"Victor," Clark warned, but Peter waved him off.

"It's fine, Clark." He turned back to Victor. "How did you know?"

"Only two types of people look you straight in the eye and tell you to shoot: the crazy ones, or the invulnerable ones. If you're hanging out with Clark, you're more likely to be made of steel." Peter laughed, shaking Victor's hand again, this time squeezing with some of his new strength. He laughed again when Victor yanked his hand back. "Then again, crazy is likely, too."

"And you already heard Bart." Clark interrupted, pointing to the small blonde. Bart grinned brightly, waving his good hand.

"Still offering to go around the world in eighty seconds?" He held out his hand, stretching as much as he could without wincing. Peter stepped forward, taking his hand. A rush of light ran up his arm, shocking him, as his knees buckled. Clark sped forward to catch him as the men started asking questions.

Peter's head spun for a moment before he was able to stand back up. When he did, though, he was overflowing with energy. His knees shook as he fought to stand still under everyone's curious gaze, but he couldn't take it anymore. He took a step, then in a blur, he was on the other side of the room, the jitters calmer but not completely gone. Clark jerked, eyes wide.

"You have Bart's power now, don't you?" Peter nodded, afraid to answer. He tried to take another step towards them, but then he was behind them, the men whirling around to see him.

"Ooh," Bart hissed. "Sorry about that, man. If I'm still for a while, my power kind of builds up on me. That might be why it hit you like that."

"Are you telling me Peter took Bart's power? Is that what he can do?" Oliver snapped, stepping up to Clark. Peter fought the urge to rush in between them. Clark didn't appear to be intimidated by Oliver.

"He can copy people's abilities. What you saw earlier were my powers. He took them last night."

"As least now I'm not setting anything on fire." Peter tried to joke. Clark didn't smile. Last night, Clark finally had to make Peter sleep in the loft of the barn after accidentally setting fire to his mom's curtains. Clark didn't want to think about what could have triggered his heat vision at two in the morning. "It's fine, Oliver." He said. "I'm used to it. I just need to adapt to it."

Oliver looked at him for a moment before nodding. "Fine. You two can stay for a while. Peter, I want you to tell me everything you know about Lex and 33.1. We have to patrol tonight, but we should have an idea what to do by morning. If Lex knows you're here, then he's probably going to hide everything. He just hopped on a jet to Maine this morning. My sources say it was some sort of business meeting." Maine? Why did that cause Peter's stomach to sour? Oliver's face turned stony when he saw Peter's reaction. "Something you want to tell us, Peter?"

"No," Peter said, but the answer sounded wrong. "Just have a bad feeling about it, that's all."

"God, he sounds just like Boy Scout." Victor teased and Clark glared at him, his cheeks tinting pink. "If Peter is doing patrol tonight, he needs a name. I nominate Copycat."

Oliver smirked. "Sounds good to me."

Clark tried to keep his expression flat, but a small smile broke out at the corners of his mouth. The smile turned full when he caught Peter's sneer. "It's appropriate." He offered. Peter rolled his eyes.

"Just for the record," Bart called from the couch, "I'd take Copycat over Impulse any day."

Peter eventually shrugged, "I guess I've been called worse things." Clark's smile dimmed, but Peter didn't say anything more. "I'll take Copycat. Makes me sound like some kind of shapeshifter." Clark paled a bit, grimacing. "Clark?" Peter asked, concerned.

Clark shook his head. "It's nothing. Just don't really care for shapeshifters. It's a long story."

Peter left it alone, but the sour feeling in his stomach returned when he could feel sadness with a sharp edge of guilt come off of Clark. He wondered if the alien knew he projected his emotions like a laser light show?

"Alright," Oliver said, his voice carrying through the open penthouse. "You two can get settled in. It's a good thing you're here, though, Clark. My physician is out of the country right now. I need your x-ray specs." Oliver led Clark over to Bart, gesturing to different parts of his body as he described how he found Bart. Peter moved to join them, but Victor stopped him.

The man pierced him with a hard look, his brows drawn down. "So exactly what is it that makes you a human Xerox machine, if you don't mind me asking?"

Peter smiled, "My genes. A friend of mine and his father found a genetic code that can give people abilities. Using it, he was able to track down specials all over the world." He then looked at Clark, and shook his head. "Well, _most_ specials. What I'm seeing here is an entirely different world."

Victor inclined his head in agreement. "Yep, there's seems to be more and more of us every time we turn around. Pretty soon, Baldy won't be able to keep his claws on them."

"You know Lex?" Peter asked, but then realized what a stupid question that was.

The man sighed, his face hardening. "I escaped from one of his labs. My friends and family thought I was killed in a car crash, but the minute my body was recovered, it was locked up with a bunch of Frankensteins. They brought me back, but by then, I was more machine than man." His right eye then rolled in his head, a red light, almost like a laser, shined behind his brown irises. "I ran into Clark. I thought he was just like me, at first, but then I got caught. If it wasn't for Clark, I'd be a brain-dead robot. All of us owe our skins to Clark. Bart and AC were half-dead when Clark found them."

"Victor!" Oliver called, coming over to them. "You and Peter can take the first run. Show him Bart's usual route. I'll stay here with Bart to make sure he takes his damn meds."

"You wouldn't want to be knocked out all day, so why should I?!" Bart snapped, almost pouting.

Out of habit, Peter plucked the prescription pills from the table, reading the label. When he got to the names, he cringed. "It's no wonder." He held them up to Oliver. "He can't take these together. They'll leave him unconscious for twelve hours, at least." He held up the bottle full of red tablets and Oliver took them. "He should take these first, then these," he shook the bottle full of pale pink capsules, "about two hours later. I used to work in hospice care and a lot of my patients took these."

One of Oliver's eyebrows rose as he read the bottle, then he nodded. "Alright. You heard him, Bart." He tossed the pills to him. Bart caught them with one hand with a sneer on his face. He ignored Bart's mumbling as he turned back to Peter. "Thanks. None of Bart's clothes will fit, but his hood should fit well enough. You can borrow that for the night. The two of you rendezvous back here at nine. Clark and I will take the next shift. Victor's name is Cyborg. You got it?"

"Yeah," Peter said. Clark opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it with a snap. He settled for waving as Victor and Peter gathered their things and stepped into the elevator. Peter was practically vibrating with energy as he stood in the cramped room. He wondered if taking Clark's powers would hurt as bad as last time, because he didn't think he could last another twenty-four hours feeling so jittery.

* * *

The rain had stopped by the time Lex entered the restaurant. The lights were dimmed for dinner and the people were milling about in the busy establishment. He moved over to the hostess's station, telling her his name. She blushed, a usual reaction to meeting a billionaire, and led him to his table in the back. The booth was in a secluded corner, meant for doe-eyed lovers, but it suited Lex's purposes just as well. The moment he sat down, a man stepped forward, the dim lights reflecting off of his horn-rimmed glasses. Lex stiffened as he sat down. He noticed out of the corner of his eye another man. This one was tall, also bald, his dark skin in contrast with the pale gray suit he wore.

"I apologize for the delay, Mr. Luthor." Horn-rimmed glasses smiled warmly. "We had a slight complication with one of our projects, but it's been resolved."

 _Another freak captured, possibly dead,_ Lex's mind translated. His phone call with Angela Petrelli had been very enlightening, and it didn't take much to arrange a meeting with her best agent, Mr. Bag-and-Tag himself.

"It is no worry. It provided me time to prepare." Lex returned a warm, yet frozen, smile of his own. Noah Bennett's friendly exterior was as plastic as Lex's, and Lex knew this. He slid a thick package of files over to the man, but before Bennett could take them, he threw an extra manila folder on top. The action earned him a questioning look from the agent. "This is my one condition. All of 33.1's patients and research, and in return, I hand you the Holy Grail of super powered beings. In return, I demand full, unrestricted access to this specimen. All of my subjects for this one. I assume this shouldn't bother Mama Petrelli's delicate sense of morality too much?"

Bennett shook his head. "Of course not, Mr. Luthor." He opened the file, reading the reports and newspaper clippings attached. This was certainly a remarkable boy. Claire would have liked him. Reading about the boy's heroics and death-defying bravery, he felt that tender part of him, the part who wanted nothing more than to go home to his Claire-bear, throb painfully at the idea of locking this boy up. The part that was cold and numb, however, reminded him that Mrs. Petrelli insisted to do 'what was necessary'.

Deep down, he thinks that by appeasing Luthor, Mrs. Petrelli was hoping to find out what had happened to Peter. Nathan had told her that Lex had threatened Peter, and that Peter was afraid. After that, they had lost all contact with Peter. Bennett hoped the boy was just brooding after finding out his own mother was selling his body to Lex. Bennett had known Peter would have figured it out, and reacted badly.

"This is quite extraordinary, but I don't understand how you expect us to capture him when he's managed to slip your grip quite a few times." Lex stiffened, his smile gone, and Bennett saw the cold-blooded tycoon underneath. No wonder Peter was frightened away.

"True," Luthor admitted, unnaturally still. "He has very tenacious friends, and my facilities are unable to hold someone like him. Yours are. The schematics for both restraints and a holding facility are included in the file. They must be followed with absolute precision." Bennett turned to the sketches, his eyebrows rising to his hairline.

"Meteor rock, Mr. Luthor?"

Luthor nodded once, a slimy smile on his face. "Yes, it's his weakness. Exposure to the meteors make him weak. That's how you have to capture him and keep him."

"Any long-term effects?" Bennett asked. The cold, calculating stare he received told him exactly how little Luthor cared about the consequences. Bennett cleared his throat, the urge to run making his legs cramp. "Very well, we'll be on the first flight to Metropolis." He pulled a napkin over to him, writing down the address to Primatech. "This is where our facilities are. We expect the transfer to be done by Monday."

Luthor took the address, "Thank you, Mr. Bennett." Bennett and the bald man were starting to walk away, but Lex called, "I would tread carefully in Kansas, Mr. Bennett. Out of all the people who attempted to take Clark Kent for themselves, I'm the only one who still lives to tell the tale." He smirked when he saw the man pale before they left, leaving Lex alone in the booth. Lex toyed with the coaster lying on the table, the smirk still in place. Unrestricted access to Clark Kent. It was a dream come true.

* * *

Peter entered the penthouse in the blink of an eye, the speed helping to take the edge off this persistent buzz of energy under his skin. The lights were still on in the living area and Bart was sitting up on the couch, smiling when he saw Peter.

"Hey, man! Victor actually beat you here. Where were you?" Peter reached into his jacket, pulling out a rolled up comic. He waved it in the air as he moved over to the chair beside the couch.

"I kept passing the comic book store and I noticed their display." He unrolled the book, the bright title of 9th Wonders staring up at him. "It was advertising this. It's a one-of-a-kind copy of 9th Wonders."

Bart snorted. "You're as bad as Clark when it comes to comic books. What's so special about it?" He took the book from Peter, looking at the cover. He gave Peter an incredulous look. "Okay, why is Clark on the cover? And I'm assuming the guy hog-tied in the van is you?"

Peter felt his cheeks warm as he snatched the book back. "They caught me by surprise." Was all he mumbled. "It's special because the artist who drew these had the ability to draw the future. So far, every comic we've found predicted what happened. Every time one comes in my path, it has something to do with what's going on?" He flipped through a few of the pages, landing on a familiar picture. "See? Right here…" He showed the panel to Bart. It was an overhead view of the living area they were sitting in. Both illustrated Peter and Bart had their heads bent over a drawing of a comic book.

The words written in Bart's bubble suddenly came out of his mouth. "This is super freaky." He looked closer at the picture and then yanked at his shirt. "I just bought this shirt last week, and I just put it on an hour ago. How the hell did he know what I'd be wearing?!"

Peter shrugged, handing Bart the comic to flip through. "I don't know. I used to have the power. It was a scary one, too. You black out for God knows how long and when you wake up, there's a huge painting in front of you. Most of the time the image isn't something you'd want to see."

"Like this?" Bart asked, his voice suddenly hollow. Peter's stomach dropped as he looked at Bart's pale skin and look of barely-concealed horror on his face. "You still have your communicator?" Peter nodded, not knowing what to say, and handed it over.

Bart turned the small dial on the side before pressing it to his ear. "Impulse to Boy Scout." He sat, silent. Peter could hear static through the earpiece. "Impulse to Boy Scout. Boy Scout, you there?" Bart swore colorfully. He stood, swaying for a moment before tossing the ear piece to Peter. "Get Oliver back here. Clark's in trouble." Peter opened his mouth to ask what Bart saw in the comic, or what trouble could Clark possibly get in, but before he could say anything, Bart sped off. Peter could hear him yelling for Victor.

He pressed the communicator to his ear. "Copycat to Arrow."

" _Arrow here."_ Oliver's altered voice said over the line. " _I heard Impulse calling Boy Scout. What's happened?"_

"We need you back, Arrow. Something isn't right. Impulse is getting Cyborg, but you need to come back." He heard the whir and whizz of Oliver's bow over the static.

" _Arrow en route."_ The line went dead in Peter's ear, making his stomach twist with anxiety. What could have possibly happened to Clark? Just when he thought he finally met someone truly indestructible…that he wasn't related to.

Bart sped in moments before Victor came running in, a t-shirt barely pulled over his head. "Is he on his way?" Bart asked, grimacing and holding his arm.

"Yes," Peter replied. He then stood, his hand held out to Peter. "You need to lie back down. Your speed is aggravating your injury."

Bart shook his head emphatically, cradling his bad arm. "No, Clark needs all of us. We need to get him back. His life is at stake."

"How?!" Peter snapped before he could stop himself. "How is Clark in danger? He's fucking bulletproof, what could hurt him?"

Bart stared at Peter, stunned. "You don't know? He let you have his powers and he didn't tell you?"

"He doesn't know if he can trust me with that secret, yet. I didn't tell you guys but I'm not a hundred percent innocent in all this." The words soured his already turning stomach and he felt sick.

Victor narrowed his eyes, "And what is that supposed to mean?"

Peter huffed, running his fingers roughly through his hair. "It means that as much as I want to help Lex's prisoners, the only reason I even came to Metropolis was to offer Lex an exchange so we can get his prisoners from his prison to ours. The people that sent me here are no better than Lex. In some cases, they're worse." He was breathing hard, on the verge of a panic attack. "Please," he said to Bart, "What is happening to Clark?"

Without saying anything, Bart tossed him the comic. Peter caught it, flipping it open to the page they were on. He flipped it one more page when he didn't see Clark, but then the next page was taken up by a large panel. It showed some kind of storage unit. The angle showed the open door and the entire area was lit up by a glow coming from strange green rocks strewn all over the floor. In the middle of the room was a large man lying prone on the ground, his hands and ankles bound, but Peter could tell they were just a safety measure.

The illustrated Clark's eyes were heavy-lidded, and Isaac did a very good job drawing the lines of strain in Clark's pale, sweaty face. The skin that was visible showed veins of green underneath, and even his lips were tinged green. A small bubble rose above him, where a whispered, weak 'Peter' was written. Peter dropped the comic, the sickness in him climbing higher and higher until he had to use his speed to make it to the bathroom before he retched into the toilet.

Those rocks, they were Clark's Achilles' heel. The thought of anyone purposefully exposing him to that made him want to vomit again. He heard a whoosh before Bart appeared in the doorway, the comic gripped loose in his good hand.

His look was sympathetic as he kneeled beside Peter, wrinkling his nose at the smell of puke. "You got it bad for Boy Scout, don't ya?" With his forehead pressed to the cold porcelain, he nodded. He heard Bart hum in sympathy, awkwardly patting his back.

"I need to see it again." Peter groaned, holding out a hand for the comic. "If I see who took him, I can find him."

Bart opened the book, looking at the picture with a grimace. "I don't know, man. You'll get sick again. There's not really much to go on. There's a guy standing in the shadow of the door." He looked closer at the panel, squinting his eyes. "Can't really see any details, but that green light is reflecting off of his glasses and I can kind of see—" Peter sped away in a rush of air, startling Bart. Bart sped into the living area, looking around. "Is Peter here?" he asked Victor.

Victor shook his head, then both men jumped when Oliver landed on the balcony, cursing as he hobbled on a twisted ankle. He rushed in, but stopped when he saw the looks on his men's faces.

"What's going on?" He asked, dread in his altered voice.

"Peter's gone." Bart held up the comic, shaking his head. "He went after Clark." Oliver swore loudly, rushing to call Chloe. The damn woman comes with her own brand of GPS. Bart sighed, rubbing his eyes with the back of his wrist. "Should've named him Boy Scout Jr."

* * *

Peter sped through the entire city, checking every garage, warehouse, and storage unit he came across. Clark left the penthouse only two hours ago. Bennett (Peter was sure it was that four-eyed bastard!) didn't have time to go far. Clark would have followed the same route Peter took since he has speed. Start at the outskirts and work your way in. The outside of the city didn't have many storage sheds. It was mainly little suburbs and abandoned lots. Peter used every ounce of his speed to find Clark.

He was about to lose hope when he saw an abandoned tire shop a few miles outside of downtown Metropolis. The shop had one little garage attached to it, and the door was locked shut. The windows of the office were broken open and the door swung on a busted hinge. When he came closer, hope flared in his chest when he saw a shiny new lock on the garage door.

He kept his distance for about ten minutes or so, watching the building in case Bennett came out or came back. He didn't see any cars parked nearby, but he wouldn't put it past the Company to leave a guard behind. He wished then he had Clark's x-ray vision. As always, he would have to run in blind and hope for the best.

His chest felt like it ripped open when he heard someone yelling for help. The voice was hoarse and losing volume. Then he heard a clang and the garage door shuddered. That made Peter's decision.

He sped over to the garage door. He slammed his palm against it, letting the sound echo into the room. "Clark?!" He called, banging on the door again.

"Peter!" Another clang made the door ripple. Peter realized then Clark must be throwing himself against the door. What the hell was in there to make Clark so desperate to get out?!

"Get me out of here!" His voice was breathy and Peter could hear him gasping for air. "Th-There's too much! I-I… _I can't breathe!_ "

Peter observed the lock. He didn't have anything to pick it, and he couldn't see any tools around them. "Clark, I'm going to get you out, okay? They're not going to take you!"

"I can't breathe!" Clark gasped again. Peter heard him throw himself into the door again, but this time there was no shudder. He couldn't hear Clark's ragged breathing anymore, either.

"Clark?" He asked, blood as cold as ice. He slammed his hand into the door. "Clark?!" He banged the door a few more times, but still no answer.

He kept calling his name and hoping he would answer, but he realized with a start that Clark was unconscious. Whatever Bennett did to him was killing him!

"Peter?!"

Speak of the devil…

Peter slowly turned, glad for a moment that he didn't have Clark's strength. If he did, he would have probably snapped Noah's neck like a twig.

"Let him go." Peter seethed. He could only imagine how he looked right then. He felt like something should have shown how furious he was.

Noah must have seen something, because suddenly a taser gun was in his hand. Peter clenched his fists and squared his shoulders. This was another reason he hated his world. There were no 'my side or your side's. Everyone had their own damn side and jumped rope with the line between good and bad. Way too many of these people were morally gray for Peter's liking.

"He is our payment for Lex's prisoners, Peter. Luthor only wanted one thing: him."

"Do you have any idea why?!" Peter snapped, Bart's power pulsing under his skin like a live wire. Apparently 'flight' was the natural instinct a speed ability has. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?! You're killing him!"

Noah held up a hand in an innocent, placating gesture. Peter fought the urge to scoff. Nothing about this man right now was innocent. "We have this under control, Peter. We're taking him to Level 5, where Lex will only have limited access for research."

"You're lying!" Peter barked, the energy buzz inside of him building. He felt like he was about to burst. "He's going to be Lex's lab rat. His own personal frog to dissect. Lex is playing all of you. You don't realize he's just using you to get his filthy hands on Clark."

"It's not like we aren't going to do research of our own, Peter."

The floor felt like it fell out from underneath Peter's feet. His worst fears for Clark were coming true. He looked at Noah and saw the same cold stare he saw in Lex's eyes. Clark wasn't human, so to them, he shouldn't be treated like one. What little respect they gave other specials won't be given to Clark. They knew he was different, and they were going to torture him to find out why.

The buzz under Peter's skin finally exploded outward and he ran. Time around him seemed to freeze as he moved over to Noah, pointing the firing taser gun at his chest, before reaching into his pocket, pulling out the key to the lock.

Noah's startled gaze whirled on Peter as time caught up with him, but he barely had time to react before the pins of the taser hit their mark, and Noah collapsed, twitching in a cursing heap. Peter didn't spare him a glance as he rushed over to the garage door, unlocking it and opening it slowly. He was right to do that when he saw Clark roll out underneath it, blood dripping down his cheek, and his skin tinged green with emerald veins. He saw the pulsing green glow around him, and caught glimpses of pitted green rocks scattered throughout the room. His eyes remained on Clark as he helped him to his feet, awkwardly supporting him as they hobbled away. Noah swore after them but Peter ignored him as he helped Clark into the night, waiting until he was about a hundred feet away before speeding them away from the city, knowing now that there was no way they could return to Metropolis, or even Smallville. Not with the Company after Clark.

* * *

He didn't get far. Clark was heavy and it was hard to keep a grip on him with his hands and ankles bound. They were on the side of a highway, somewhere between Metropolis and Topeka, when he finally collapsed under Clark's weight.

Clark groaned as he hit the ground, and Peter huffed in amazement. That was the first sign of life out of Clark.

"Clark?" He said, kneeling beside the alien to check him for injuries. "Are you okay? Can you hear me?"

"Pe'r?" he slurred, his eyes staying closed. Peter checked his pulse, but then realized what a bad idea that was when he felt it hammering against his fingertips. Exactly what was the baseline for his species? "Sun…" Clark breathed. "Need….sun…"

Peter checked his watch, grimacing. "The sun won't rise for another hour and a half. Clark, I'm going to take your power again. I need your strength to get you out of here before they find us, okay?"

Clark didn't answer but he gave a jerk of the head, and Peter touched the back of his hands. Clark's skin against his was clammy and sweaty, veins still colored green and sickly. Before Peter realized what he was doing, he brought the bound hands up to his lips and kissed the poisoned veins.

"Jesus, Clark!" He sighed, clutching Clark's hands in both of his. He reached out with his power to Clark, feeling the barely there echo of Clark's abilities. What seemed like an all-consuming blaze the last time he saw his power was now a weak spark deep inside Clark. Whatever made him weak also affected his power, Peter realized. There was barely enough there for Peter to take.

Peter concentrated on the feeling Clark inspires in him. A kindred soul, being a hero who can never do enough. Someone who bears every failure and loss on their shoulders. Lust, being absolutely gorgeous, his eyes burning with the desire he felt for this wonderful man. And hope, hope that he finally found someone to face his nightmare of a world beside him, and possibly survive. Hope that maybe, just maybe, he finally found someone he could grow to love.

The burning wave going up his arm was the only warning he had before he was thrown back onto his back, crying out in shock. What was pure agony the first time, was now just a short period of spasms, the burning in his muscles dissolving into cramps, then nothing. He panted for breath, lying beside Clark, until the cramps and pain eased, and he could feel Clark's strength building inside of him.

"Peter?" Clark breathed, his voice quiet in the pre-dawn darkness. "Where are we?"

"I don't know." Peter answered, dreading the next words. "We can't stay in Kansas, Clark. The people that took you will find us. We have to hide."

"We?" was all Clark asked. He didn't seem surprised at the aspect of hiding. It made Peter wonder what kind of life has Clark had.

Peter nodded. "I kind of attacked my mom's best agent to save you." Clark stayed silent.

"Your mother? She's in charge of the Company, isn't she?"

Peter nodded again. "Yeah, she was using me to get to Lex." He sat up on his elbow, looking down at Clark. His hands and ankles were still bound, and Peter reached down to snap the restraints. Clark hissed as the circulation picked up in his limbs. "I'm not leaving you, Clark. It's my fault they found you and I won't stop until you're free."

Clark nodded, staring at the ground. He flexed his hands and gradually sat up, rubbing the soreness out of his wrists. "Where were you thinking?"

"I have a friend in Los Angeles. He'll help up set up a new life. We could probably pass for brothers. We'll need to change our appearance." Peter toyed with his hair, frowning.

Clark shrugged. "I can't do much. Hair dye doesn't work on me. Don't ask how I know that."

Peter couldn't help himself. He started laughing, and kept laughing until tears came to his eyes. He felt hysterical but Clark didn't seem to be surprised by his reaction. In fact, he started laughing to, shaking his head.

"Maybe a pair of glasses, and a different hairstyle should work." Peter suggested, picturing Clark with glasses.

Clark groaned. "Oh no. I'm not wearing glasses!"

Peter smiled, helping Clark to his shaky feet. He looped an arm around his shoulders, helping the alien walk down the road, hoping sunrise will help Clark get his strength back.

"I'll get some, too. After all, we'll be brothers." Peter winced on the inside. Brothers don't fall in love with each other. _Not in love yet…_ he told himself.

 _You and Clark? Alone? Hiding from the rest of the world?_

 _You're right…_ he admitted as the first sign of light broke out over the east. The sun's rays hit Clark and Clark closed his eyes, like he was basking in it and he transformed in front of Peter's eyes. The cut on his cheek disappeared in a flash of light, leaving only a trail of blood behind. The poisoned veins under his skin vanished, the green retreating from his lips and eyes to some unknown place. His skin reclaimed its golden color, a flush of pink high on his cheeks, and a healthy shade of pink returning to his full lips.

Peter suppressed a groan. The early morning light made him look absolutely breathtaking.

 _I am so fucked!_ He groaned inside his head. Clark stepped away from Peter, patting his shoulder, before giving him a sweet, innocent smile that made fire swirl behind Peter's eyes and his blood rush south. Peter gritted his teeth behind a small smile. _That's just not fair!_


	2. Chapter 2

Peter walked into room six where Matt Parkman and Little Matty were waiting for him. Ever since he came to Los Angeles, Matty seemed to only trust him around doctors, forcing the older Matt to move to the pediatrician Peter worked for, thanks to Matt and his power of persuasion.

"Hey, guys. What is it this time?" He asked cheerfully, thumbing through Matty's file. He looked up in time to see Matt sit on the cot, cradling his infant son. He rubbed his eyes and yawned.

"Fever. Stayed up all night crying. We gave him some baby aspirin, but he still wouldn't stop cranking up the volume on his baby monitors. The wife said it may be an ear infection." Peter nodded as he walked up to the tiny Matt. His face was red and wet from an earlier tantrum, which caused the power to go off for about ten minutes, but he didn't seem to look too ill. Peter still felt a little uneasy working around children. This was definitely a huge leap from hospice care and paramedics.

When Clark and Peter arrived on Matt's doorstep around two months ago, he didn't bat an eye when Peter asked to hide. The first day of hiding, he bought thick-framed glasses for Clark. Clark whined until he saw Peter hold up a bottle of peroxide and hair trimmer. Later that night, Clark and Matt laughed himself to tears when he saw Peter's cropped, platinum blonde hair. It had grown out since he last dyed it, so now he looked like a skunk, but after seeing the kids warm up to him with his wild hair, he decided to keep it. Matt still couldn't keep a straight face when he caught sight of Peter, but today, he seemed too tired to notice much of anything.

Peter took down Matty's vitals, noting that his temperature was pretty high. He took care to keep his strength in check, still having Clark's abilities. After having to carry Clark halfway across Kansas, he didn't want to be caught without it again. It took time, and quite a few broken medical supplies, before Clark helped him get the hang of it. He still had to watch himself when he was upset, though.

"Well," he said, writing down notes of what Matt had said, "it does seem like it, but the doc needs to give the final say. I would look at him more closely, but I don't know how he would react to my…talents."

"That sounded a little creepy, Peter." Matt remarked, yawning again. Peter snorted, pocketing his pen. "Has Clark found a job yet?"

Peter shrugged, sitting on the stool in front of the cot. "He's still looking. We'll need your help when it comes to applying." Matt nodded and Peter continued. "It's weird, living with someone you hardly know. Now that we took the time to get to know each other, I realized we're from two completely different worlds. He cooks. Like from scratch, homemade everything, cooks. He has this recipe for apple pie that you wouldn't believe. I ate half of it in an hour." He stopped when he saw the smirk on Matt's face. Matty buried his face into his father's neck, whimpering. "What?" Peter asked.

Matt shushed him, patting his back before looking back at Peter. "Kind of sucks being brothers seeing as how lovers would have been more appropriate."

Peter spluttered, his cheeks heating. Luckily, his eyes were well under control. It was required after the first time he saw Clark come out of the shower. "Matt! No. I'm not going to screw this up. We're Clark and Peter Smith. I moved out here to support my brother while he tries for UCLA. That's it."

"What happens behind closed doors won't ruin it, Peter. You actually deserve it after all this shit they put you through." Peter was shaking his head, resisting the urge to push away hair that was no longer there.

"No, Clark…he- It won't happen. I have a better chance with Sylar at this point."

Matt shuddered, little Matty protesting with a cry, "That bad, huh? Well, I'll say this. Sylar wouldn't have dropped everything and everyone to run off to California with you."

"To protect himself…"

"From people that sent you. You may not have given them written directions to Clark, but if that Luthor guy hadn't heard of the Company, he wouldn't have put a price on Clark's head." Peter stood, barely resisting the urge to leave the room.

"Don't you think I know that?" He sighed, closing Matty's file and placing it on the cot next to them. He ran a gentle hand down the infant's back, soothing his whines until he calmed down again. "I know it's my fault. Clark, he's incredible. He hasn't blamed me at all, but I know it's my fault. Every night he gets that look on his face, as if he's wondering where or how his friends are. I know because I'm worried, too. About Ma, Nathan, and Claire…but I can't let them take Clark. He's special."

Matt nodded, understanding. It didn't take long for Matt to figure out Clark's origins. It had to be explained when he tried to read Clark's mind. The speed and complexity of Clark's brain sent him into a migraine that didn't go away for a week. By then, Peter figured the explanation was owed to Matt. It also gave Peter the idea of their cover story.

Apparently, Clark was quite gifted with math and science, so Peter had the idea to have Clark apply for a degree in physics, in the meantime, working with computers or some type of engineering. Clark had paled when Peter explained the idea to him, but like Peter said, there was no telling how long they would have to hide. He would love to get rid of his 'skunk-hair' and he would love for Clark to ditch the hair gel for his usual tousled look, but they couldn't. They couldn't be found.

* * *

Clark wanted nothing more than to pick up the phone and call his mom, or Chloe. He missed them so much. Oliver had the common sense to give them a story about going into hiding after he exposed his abilities to a reporter. Clark shrugged. Maybe with that cover, his mom wouldn't worry so much. He adjusted the glasses he wore as they slid down his nose… _again!_ He hated the damn things! They always stayed dirty, attracting every single particle of dust within ten feet of Clark, and obscuring his vision, and if he didn't clean them just right, he would have smudges all day. The gel in his hair made his head feel like cement. The way he styled his hair now didn't help the whole 'dork' look.

He sipped on a coffee in the café as he used their local computers to search for a job. The connection was slow and it used a half-ass search engine, but Clark had to get out of the house. He was tired of waiting for Peter to come home like some lost puppy. His crush on Peter had only grown as they stayed in hiding. Something about the danger of being found changed Peter, or maybe Clark has just been able to get to know Peter. He was the kindest person he ever met.

He remembered the night he fell hard for the man. It was three weeks after coming to L.A., and they had just got a television for their tiny apartment. They celebrated with tacos and a movie marathon. They both were forced to curl up in the love seat, the closest thing to a couch they could get with the little money they had. Clark was channel surfing when Peter stopped him. When he realized what was on, he shook his head. Leave it to Peter to choose Titanic. The movie was already in the beginning of the story, right before Rose meets Jack, and Peter grinned. Clark had shrugged, sinking into the cushions, letting his legs stretch across the scraped wooden floor.

The movie had continued on, gradually getting sadder and sadder until finally it reached the part where the ship had sunk. It was when the women on the lifeboats were trying to go back for survivors that Peter sniffled. Clark looked over at him and saw Peter crying, tears trickling down his cheeks, but when he caught Clark's eye, he gave a small smile.

"Sorry," he had said. "I always hated this part. Could you imagine hearing thousands of people cry for help and you're too much of a coward to save them?" Peter shook his head, wiping his cheeks. "Ever since I was a kid, I wanted to be a hero." Peter sniffed, his voice thick. "This part just always reminds me that I'll never be enough. I should be doing so much more, but I can't. I had that chance and I blew it, because I was too busy being used, manipulated by everyone. I didn't know what I was capable of until I lost it." He picked up the remote from between them, changing the channel. "Jack tried to be the hero. See what happened to him?"

"He loved Rose." Clark said, ignoring Peter's bitter laugh. "He did what he knew he could do."

"He should have done a hell of a lot more." Peter replied, sneering.

Clark didn't know what made him do what he did. He didn't know if it was Peter's hunched shoulders, his tear-stained eyes, or his clenching fists, but he wrapped his arms around Peter, pulling him into his chest, holding him until he relaxed into the embrace. Peter then clung to Clark, breathing harshly, but no more tears escaped. Clark caught the whiff of Peter's shampoo, but underneath was his heat, his spice. He clung a little tighter, feeling his chest get weighed down with lead. He had missed this. Someone leaning on him for support. Someone needing him, just as Clark, not as the hero or the alien, just Clark.

"From what you told me, you saved the world around three or four times now. That's beating me by two." Peter huffed a laugh, the heat of his breath warming Clark deep in his core. He took a deep breath to keep calm in Peter's hold.

"But you're a hero, Clark." Peter looked up at him, his eyes dull. "You've rushed head-first into danger, whether you had your powers or not."

"We're both heroes, Peter. You save people because they need help. You don't hesitate because of your own personal feelings. You could hate them, and you would still save them." He pulled back to look into Peter's eyes, letting the smaller man see the guilt and regrets of his past. "I can't say the same thing."

Peter choked off a sob, but then blushed when he realized they were still holding each other. They broke away from each other, putting distance between them. Peter took his body heat with him, chilling Clark to the bone, and Clark shivered. When he looked over at Peter, with his ridiculously short blonde hair, his breath caught. Like a flip being switched, Clark saw a new Peter. This Peter wasn't the bitter, guarded Peter he met in Metropolis. This one left himself wide open, but he took everything into stride. He was warm and loving, treating every human being like they mattered, like seeing them made his day. He was starting work at a pediatrician's office soon. Clark knew the kids would love him. And that's when Clark realized he fell in love with Peter Petrelli. He finally found his equal, the one to be by his side as followed his destiny to be the world's hero. Maybe with Peter, they could both be the heroes they wanted to be.

When Clark came back to himself, he realized with a flush that he had been staring at the computer screen for an hour. Luckily, no one seemed to notice. With a sigh, he flipped off the monitor. He stood, throwing away his cold coffee, another productive day wasted. Maybe he should have stayed at the apartment, he was thinking about Peter either way.

He moved up to the counter, pulling out his wallet. "Can I get another black coffee?" Then he saw the time. Peter would be back soon. "Uh, make it two. Both large, and do you still have the apple cinnamon muffins?"

The cashier, who reminded Clark too much of Lois, smiled. "Yep, we do. We're making sure to keep at least a couple around in case you ask." She winked at him, smacking a piece of gum. Clark smiled, resisting the urge to cringe. Exactly like Lois.

"Thank you," he said, pulling out a twenty. "I'll take one of those, a blueberry muffin, and five chocolate chip scones." Not-Lois chuckled to herself.

"Two for each of you, and an extra to spoil the little lady. Not bad, stretch. There should be more men like you." Clark blushed under her scrutiny, but didn't correct her. Was that what he was doing? Sure, he planned to give Peter the extra scone, but was it really to spoil him? Like if he was a boyfriend? Clark didn't say anything as he paid for it. She seemed to enjoy herself as she packed his order, handing it to him with another wink. "There was only one scone left, so now there's a treat for you, too. On the house."

Clark smiled, Not-Lois making him homesick. "Thanks, Lo—uh, I mean, thanks."

"Anytime, stretch." He left the shop, his face still hot, but he felt a little better about returning to the apartment. He sped through the neighborhood, reaching their tiny apartment building. Clark felt the need to duck to just walk through the front door. When he reached their door, he grinned when he saw that Peter had arrived. The note he had left for him on the door was gone. He pushed his way into the cramped room, brandishing the bag in his hand.

"Oh thank god!" Peter smiled, taking the bag from Clark and a mug of coffee. Clark sat at the wobbly table in the kitchen as Peter fixed his coffee and divided the pastries. He noticed that there was an extra scone. "I was about to call you and ask you to pick up something to eat." He sat at the table, tearing into the first scone. "Three kids with the stomach flu came in without an appointment, so I cancelled my lunch." He sighed, taking a sip of coffee. The look of bliss that came on Peter's face made Clark's eyes burn. He tried to fight it back, but looking at Peter became more and more tempting. He knew if he didn't do anything about his attraction to Peter, he would spontaneously combust, one way or another.

The heat in his eyes grew as he watched Peter eat another scone, the groans of satisfaction making Clark's stomach jerk. He focused instead on his coffee, releasing the built-up heat in spurts until his coffee was boiling. When he looked up, Peter was giving him a soft smile. Clark didn't think he could make his coffee any hotter.

"You always end up with cold coffee," he laughed, patting Clark's shoulder. "That's like the fourth time this month you did that."

Clark nodded. "Yeah, I told you the barista reminded me too much of Lois. I wouldn't put it past her to have a coffee waiting for me an hour in advance." Peter grinned, pursing his lips to blow his coffee. Clark braced himself for the mental images that Peter's lips inspire, but then Peter pulled away.

"I need to stop doing that." He said, "I keep freezing everything." Peter set his coffee aside, peeling off a corner of the large apple muffin. He popped the piece into his mouth, sighing in contentment. "These are my favorite. I don't know how you knew that."

 _Because you once told me you and your brother spent three hours searching Manhattan for apple cinnamon muffins…_ Clark thought, sipping his coffee. It burned all the way down, but he couldn't set it aside without explaining why he used heat vision in the first place.

Peter watched Clark blush, the pink creeping down from his cheeks to his neck. Peter idly wondered how far down the blush went. He mentally yanked himself back from the train of thought, but then thought about what Matt said earlier that day. _You deserve it, Peter…_

But did he? Did he really deserve it? And even if he did, how did Clark feel? There were some nights, like the night they watched Titanic, that he thinks maybe it's possible, but then he thinks about Noah finding Clark. Peter losing Clark like he's already lost so many people.

"Peter?" He looked up, startled. Clark was worried. His eyes shone with concern for Peter, and something else. Something impossibly warm, burning bright like his heat vision. "Are you okay? Did something happen today?"

Peter shook his head. "No, nothing special. Matty says hi, by the way."

Clark's face softened at the mention of the infant, but then he worried again. "He was at the doctor again? What happened?"

Peter leaned forward, putting a hand over Clark's. "It's nothing. Just an ear infection. It happens all the time. It's allergy season, so sinus infections are a dime a dozen. He'll be fine. Can't say the same for Matt, though."

Clark took Peter's hand, feeling his heart race in his chest, but he didn't draw attention to it. If Peter didn't acknowledge it, he wouldn't either. "Next time you see Matt, tell him I can babysit so him and Janice can go out. It can't be easy being the house-husband." Peter laughed, gripping Clark's hand back. Then the room settled into a tense silence. They stared at each other, feeling the weight of unspoken words drop between them. "Peter?" Clark asked, unsure.

"Clark," Peter started, taking Clark's hand in both of his. He heard Clark's breath hitch, but he kept going. "Well, with the heat vision, it's no secret that I think you're attractive, but what you don't know is that it's much more than that. I think that you're gorgeous. That you are kind and smart, and that you're so strong. I don't mean just physically. Your heart is so strong. It caught me by surprise when I first met you, but now I can tell it's so easy to fall in love with you. It breaks my heart that you have to hide, that there are people out there who want to hurt you. I promise, Clark, I will do anything I can to protect you."

"Peter?" Clark breathed, pulling Peter closer to him. Peter held his breath anxiously as Clark gently ran a hand through his black and blonde hair. Clark smiled gently before looking into Peter's eyes. "I know you'll protect me. Just like I know I'll do anything to keep you safe. I knew there was something different about you the minute I saw you. I feel like if I lost all of my abilities tomorrow, you would still look at me like you are now." Clark couldn't help himself anymore. Peter's lips were just so close and he could smell that spicy heat that made Peter who he was. Peter's eyes shone with warmth, making the chocolate brown melt into the gold, seamlessly blending together.

With a groan, Clark pressed his lips to Peter's. Peter froze underneath Clark.

* * *

Peter's brain, for once in his life, shut down completely. He couldn't think, couldn't move. The only thing he could process was the soft, warm lips pressed to his. He tasted the bitter black coffee and the chocolate on Clark's lips. Wait…Clark's lips. _Clark's_ lips were on his.

Like a shock of electricity, he responded, collapsing out of his chair to press his body to Clark's. He felt like he would die if he didn't feel Clark's arms around him right then.

Clark clumsily followed him to the floor, pressing their chests together, a hand still buried in Peter's hair. He hesitantly placed his other hand on Peter's hip. The action forced a strangled sound out of Peter's throat.

"Clark!" He panted when they pulled apart for air. Clark felt his eyes burn and his blood boil at the sound of his voice. It was deep and scratchy. Peter said his name again, and goosebumps broke out over Clark's back.

"Tell me what you want, Peter." Clark asked, a blush heating his cheeks. Clark was no virgin, but there was a huge difference between fantasizing about men and actually being with a man. And Peter was a man, there was no doubt about it. His body was firm and lean under Clark's hands, so deceptively delicate. Peter's eyes were molten, the brown and gold muddled together with a metallic sheen.

His face was flushed, his lips red and swollen. Clark couldn't imagine a way Peter could be any more beautiful. "I want everything, Clark." He pulled Clark into an embrace, resting his forehead on his shoulder. "We can do whatever you want to do. I won't rush you."

Clark squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the fire swirling behind his retinas to cool. Peter's voice made the heat in his body rise higher and higher, searing Clark from the inside.

"I want you, Clark." The dishtowel on the counter behind Peter caught fire, causing both men to jump. After a moment of shock, Peter laughed. Clark used his speed to snatch the towel up and throw it into the sink, turning on the water full blast to put it out. Clark prayed the smoke from the sink obscured the blush in his cheeks.

He felt the solid line of Peter's body press against his back, his arms winding around his waist. Clark felt like he would burst into flames when he felt his lips kiss the back of his neck. "Come to my room," he said in a husky voice. Clark groaned. Peter was going to kill him. He was sure of it, but then again, it would be a hell of a way to go.

Clark shuddered, his pants too tight and his breath too slow.

"Is this your first time?" Peter then asked, the hot edge to his voice dulled to concern.

Clark nodded, his face hot. "With a guy, yeah. I don't- I mean, I don't really know…"

"It's alright, Clark." He said, pressing himself closer to his body. The taller man whimpered when he felt Peter's hardness press into his jeans. "Just tell me to stop and I will. You can trust me, Clark."

"I know I can." He replied in a rush. Peter chuckled into the back of his neck, his breath the only warning before his lips pressed into his skin. He felt like his knees would give out when he felt Peter's tongue tasting him. "God!" He gasped, gripping the counter hard. He heard the wood and metal under his hands groan in protest, but that only made him harder. He heard Peter groan into his back. His need rose with each puff of hot air grazing his spine. Peter's lips kept pressing up his neck, his tongue tentatively touching his skin. He shivered as each kiss cooled, leaving behind what felt like a trail of ice down his back. He felt the graze of teeth, and in a blur, he had Peter beneath him, in Peter's bed, his shirt ripped open.

Peter groaned when he felt a hot mouth descend on his chest, licking and biting him with a reckless abandon. He hissed when the bites moved to tender areas, shivering when Clark apologized with either licks or fervent sucks.

"C'mere!" He mumbled, using his alien strength to yank Clark on top of him, shoving their lips together. Their teeth clacked together and he tasted the faint bitter flavor of Clark's blood, sulfur, not iron, as his lip grazed one of Peter's incisors. Clark collapsed on top of Peter, his weight pinning him down, giving into their savage kiss with a guttural moan. The sound of ripping fabric filled the room as scraps of clothes flew wildly across the room, neither of the men paying attention to who tore at what. Soon, naked skin was pressed to naked skin and both men felt like they were on fire.

Peter winced as his eyes blazed, the fire roaring inside of his head, desperate to be released. "Oh, come _on!_ " He exclaimed, pressing his face into Clark's shoulder. Clark pulled up from nibbling on Peter's ear to look at him.

"What's wrong?" His voice was incredibly hoarse, as if he hadn't spoken in days. The fire burned hotter and Peter cursed.

"My eyes. I can't stop it." He should have known he would lose control like this. He could barely look at Clark without wanting to set the whole state of California on fire. Now with Clark on top of him, his glorious body lined up with his, his hard cock pressing into his hip… "Oh, my God!" He sunk his teeth into Clark's collarbone, so hard he was afraid he'd snap Clark's bone. So hard it jarred his head. So hard he was worried he would lose his teeth. Clark howled in pain, the hand in Peter's hair clenching shut, pulling the strands so hard that tears sprung to his eyes.

"Peter!" Clark hissed through clenched teeth. More sulfur blossomed in Peter's mouth, but he couldn't stop himself. The fire in his eyes were held back. " _Fuck!_ Peter, stop. Just let go. If it's that bad, then you need to let it out. Holding it back is just going to make it worse."

"Hur' you," he mumbled around Clark's skin. Yep, that was Clark's blood in his mouth, but then again, that was Clark's leg grazing his, that was Clark's chest brushing against his, that was Clark's breath tickling his ear…

Clark used the grip in Peter's hair to yank his head away. Peter, with a shocked cry, opened his eyes and fire shot up to the ceiling, mindlessly charring the drywall above them. Peter prayed that it wouldn't burn through to the apartment above them. Almost as quickly as it hit Peter, it vanished, leaving him panting and cringing on the bedspread.

"Fuck!" He gaped, staring at the angry, black lines zig-zagging across the ceiling. An odd sound was bouncing through the room and it took Peter a while to realize what it was. He looked over at Clark and saw him…laughing. His head was thrown back and his face was lit with sheer giddiness as he laughed. Peter felt a small smile creep across his face. Damn, Clark was gorgeous.

"I'm sorry." Clark said, covering his face with both hands. He laughed a moment more before forcing himself to calm down. "I just," a chuckle escaped, "I just remembered something a friend of mine said about my heat vision. She called it 'premature combustion'." He didn't explain further, only declining into more laughs.

Peter's face turned beet red, which only made Clark laugh harder. He was about to sit up, cover up, or something, when Clark rolled back on top of him, staring down at him with glittering eyes.

"Do you really like me that much?" He asked, his voice quiet. Peter nodded, afraid to speak, his eyes flitting from Clark's eyes to his lips and back. Clark gave him a soft, warm smile. "Peter, do you still want me?"

"God yes," Peter blurted out, his hands rushing to touch Clark. One reached his broad shoulders while the other came up to cup Clark's cheek. Clark leaned into the touch, his eyes sliding shut. "I want you so much, Clark." _More than anything,_ he thought. _Forever…_

Clark opened his eyes, pinning Peter with a penetrating stare. Peter's heart skipped. Was telepathy an ability of Clark's? Then Clark kissed him, gently, reverently. "Take me." He breathed over Peter's lips.

Peter held on to Clark as he shivered, a wanton moan clawing its way out of his throat. "You're going to kill me." He whined, pressing his forehead to Clark's.

"Fuck me first." Clark replied, his voice deep. The words spurred him into action, their lips meeting again, hands everywhere, touching, caressing, searching. With a burst of strength, Peter flipped them over, eliciting an excited gasp from the taller man. Clark's body arched into him, their cocks brushing each other with an electric jolt. Peter growled, kissing Clark desperately, breathing him in like oxygen.

Trails of fire scorched Peter's body where hands touched him, forcing a shiver and an involuntary thrust from him. Clark yanked his lips away. "Peter, please." Any innocence Clark projected vanished as his eyes burned with lust, his lips forming around Peter's name in an incessant plea. Peter watched him writhe under him, his powerful legs clenching around his hips. He felt a brief moment of uncertainty when he felt the raw strength in Clark's body. What if he wasn't completely invulnerable? What if Clark could still hurt him? He trusted Clark, though. He knew the farmboy would never purposefully hurt him, and he actually hoped Clark could mark him. He would love to walk away with physical reminders of what they did. There was no telling how long the bite on Clark's shoulder would last.

His hands skimmed over Clark's body, occasionally teasing areas that shocked moans and curses out of the man's mouth. Their lips met again, the desperation easing into a slow, languid embrace. Strong hands like living steel pulled the short strands of his hair, making Peter's head spin and his eyes cross. God! That felt amazing. His hand reached Clark's hardness and his fingers curled around it. Clark jerked, thrusting his hips into Peter, his eyes falling shut in pleasure.

"Oh, fuck!" Clark hissed as Peter tightened his grip, sliding his palm along the shaft. The swear word coming from Clark's mouth made Peter impossibly harder, his hips thrusting into Clark, his shaft brushing across Clark's entrance. He jumped when Clark's hips suddenly arched off the bed, crying out.

"Are you okay?" He asked, alarmed. Clark was panting, his skin glowing with a sheen of sweat. He stopped jerking Clark, pulling away as he shuddered and moaned under him. The sound of Clark's moaning kept his cock twitching in interest.

Clark then nodded. "Yeah, just a muscle reflex." He laughed breathlessly, "Do you have lube?"

Peter frowned, but reached under his bed to get it, giving it to Clark with a confused stare. He watched Clark open it, pouring a generous amount on his palm. He gasped when Clark took his cock gently, spreading the thick liquid over his shaft. The glide of his hand, soft and hot, soon had Peter panting, thrusting into Clark's hand.

Clark pulled his hand away, earning a strong curse from Peter, but then Clark's legs were around his waist. He felt Clark urge him closer, the angle pressing his dick against Clark's entrance.

His hole was loose and hot, as if Peter had spent hours preparing him. There was even a thin layer of moisture, adding to the slickness of the lube on Peter's cock. Clark arched into his body, their bare chests pressing close together.

"Fuck me." Clark hissed in Peter's ear. He shuddered, resisting the urge to just ram into Clark.

"The muscle reflex?" Peter asked, pressing the head of his dick to the ring of muscle when Clark smirked. Clark shivered, groaning when Peter pulled away again.

"I noticed that when I get really turned on," the blush on Clark's cheeks spread down to his chest. Peter couldn't resist running his tongue across it. " _Oh!_ When I get horny, my body just suddenly reacts. I get loose and wet and _god,_ you feel so good right now!" He tried to force Peter closer again, but he held firm, the tip of his dick barely grazing Clark's hole. "Peter! Please."

With a smirk, Peter leaned over Clark, until their lips were a breath apart. "Loose and wet, huh? Are you too loose?" Before Clark could react, Peter pushed into his body. His body was hot and _tight!_ Peter sucked in a harsh breath, holding it to stave off his orgasm. Clark gave a long, ragged moan, only ending when Peter pressed in to the hilt, their bodies joined together. His body was so hot. So good. Peter wished he could stay like this forever. Clark wrapped his arms tightly around Peter, his breath rushing across Peter's lips.

They stilled, the only sound in the room was their heavy breathing. Clark leaned up, meshing their lips together. Their tongues met and curled around each other, neither man knowing whose moans were whose. Peter shifted his weight and Clark keened low in his throat. A bolt of pure ecstasy shot up Peter's spine as Clark clenched around him, his alien body pulsing over Peter's cock.

With another heated kiss, Peter started pushing into Clark's heat, hard and slow. Each thrust brought a new sound from Clark, each one dirtier than the last. He felt like he was burning. The fire in his eyes was thankfully non-existent, but it did nothing to help the scorching blaze under his skin, threatening to explode. Clark clung to Peter and Peter to Clark. He sped his thrusts, feeling his orgasm curl low in his stomach, tightening in his balls.

"Oh, Peter! _Fuck, Peter!"_ Peter shifted his weight again, supporting himself with a hand on either side of Clark, his angle changing. Clark's hips flew up under Peter, forcing their bodies to collide. " _OH!"_ Clark cried out in Peter's ear, the hands on his back suddenly becoming claws, raking nails down his spine. He hoped they would mark him. " _Shit!_ Just like that, Peter!"

Peter pushed in deeper, aiming for the little ridge of tissue grazing his head. Each stroke made Clark jerk, his voice growing breathier, louder. Clark's brute strength forced them together again. Peter caught himself on his elbows, pressing his lips to Clark's throat. Clark angled his head, arching into Peter.

Clark cried Peter's name, over and over again, as Peter's thrusts grew faster. He used his teeth to mark Clark's neck, biting with enough force to make his jaw ache as he pounded into his body.

Then, without warning, Clark's release hit. Clark roared in Peter's ear as he came between them, a sudden scalding slickness pooling between them. Peter cried out. With his release, Clark's body clamped down on Peter's cock, the walls of his entrance squeezing like a vice, the muscles practically vibrating around him.

" _Oh, God! Oh, Clark! Oh, fuck!"_ He thrust hard into his tightness, Clark gasping his name, and the tight coil inside of him exploded outward. " _CLARK!_ " He moaned and whimpered like a whore as the near-unbearable heat under his skin rushed outward, chilling his body as he came inside Clark, the force of his orgasm blurring his vision, black spots blossoming over his eyes. " _God!_ "

He collapsed on Clark's chest, his brain completely fuzzy. Clark held him, squeezing him tight, as if he was afraid to let him go. He felt lips on his forehead, his cheeks, his lips, and his neck. He cried out when teeth clamped down on his neck, the pain causing him to rear back.

When Clark looked up at him, he was smug. "Now we're even." Peter felt his neck, where there was an impression of bite marks. He felt a smile break out on his face, and he giggled before he could stop himself.

* * *

Clark felt like he was floating as he watched Peter feel the bite mark with his fingers. He felt a small pang of sorrow when he thought that their lovemaking hadn't lasted longer, like eternally, but then it gave way to giddiness when he realized they could just do it again…and again and again and again.

With a grunt, Peter rolled off of Clark, collapsing on to the bed beside him. He groaned as he laid on the mattress, stretching like a cat. Clark watched him, feeling his cock twitch in weak interest. And again and again and again…

"That was amazing." Peter breathed, a lopsided grin on his face. Without thinking about it, Clark reached up to touch the crooked corner. Peter blushed as he caressed his chin, his thumb brushing across his lip. Peter then pulled away, "It's just something I had since I was little. Dad wanted to get it fixed, but Ma wouldn't let him."

"I'm glad," Clark said, his voice quiet. "So beautiful."

Peter's blush deepened. Clark's hands flexed, but he forced himself to relax. He hoped whoever made Peter thought he was so flawed was gone. He couldn't bear the thought of someone calling Peter anything less than perfect.

"Will you stay tonight?" Peter asked, shifting closer to Clark. Instead of answering, he pulled Peter into his arms, draping the bed's covers over them. Peter curled around Clark, his head on his chest. "Your heart is fast."

Clark nodded. "Somewhere between 150 and 215 beats per minute. It depends on what I'm doing."

Peter huffed a breathless laugh. "You're amazing."

He felt emotion swell in his chest as he pressed his lips to Peter's short hair, ignoring the ridiculous black and white streaks. He felt more than heard Peter's breath slowing, his body gradually relaxing on top of him. He arranged them around to where Peter was lying with his back to Clark. Clark curled around him protectively, his arm over Peter's waist. Peter sleepily held on to him, bringing his hand to his mouth for a small peck.

"Good night, Clark."

"Night, Peter." _I love you._ The words almost escaped, but Clark held them back, instead pulling Peter tighter into his embrace.

As Peter dozed, Clark couldn't help but to worry. The pattern was there. He would let his guard down, he would let somebody in, then they'll get hurt. That's what happened to Lana. To his Dad. To Alicia.

He was glad Peter could take his abilities. It made Peter harder to hurt. Harder to kill. It gave Clark hope, and that was what scared Clark. Hope was a terrible poison, Clark had realized. It was a poison that people took again and again, sure that eventually it would stop hurting them. Clark knew too well that there was no limit to how many times it could get someone killed.

"Clark," Peter mumbled, shifting in his arms. "Can't breathe." Clark started, easing his tight grip on Peter. Peter sighed in relief before falling asleep, his body truly relaxed.

 _I love you_ , he wanted to say again. He waited until he knew Peter was asleep. He pressed his lips to Peter's shoulder, grazing the soft skin with his nose before pressing his lips to his neck, his breath grazing Peter's ear.

He hoped Peter only took his powers and not his knowledge, because if Peter could understand the quiet Kryptonian endearments Clark whispered into his skin, then he would surely die of embarrassment.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey, guys! I'm just here to apologize for the short chapter, but I couldn't bring myself to combine it with the other chapters...just think of this as a bridge chapter lol The next chapter will start the story back up, I promise! Love y'all's feedback! All of you inspire me! Enjoy!**

* * *

Clark buttoned the last button of his dark blue dress shirt, yanking his black tie out from under the bed. The tie was wrinkled, but luckily it wasn't ripped apart like the rest of them. Peter had his strength, but not his control. It was a small miracle that this tie survived their night together.

"Damn, I missed one." He heard Peter mumble from the door. He turned to face him with a grin, looping the tie around his neck. Peter was leaning in the doorway, his hair now black with tips of white.

It had been another three weeks of peaceful living since they fell into bed together. Now, they could hardly pull themselves away. Peter reluctantly worked, returning home to Clark in a fevered frenzy of lust. Clark dragged his feet with his job searching, but even with his slow pace, he finally caught a break. His email Monday had a simple message. It was Thursday and he had a scheduled interview in an hour. It was a job he found for a computer technician. With Matt Parkman's help, he over-sold his experience and education, but he doubted that there was a computer his super-brain (Peter's words, not his) could handle.

Peter was off that day, watching Clark get dressed, taking pride in the fresh hickies decorating his chest. He was glad that he found out if he bit hard enough, they could be visible for days. Of course, with Clark, it didn't take much to drive them insane with passion.

"Before we tie you down again," Clark said evenly, folding his collar down. "We might have to find some iron shackles or something, you tore through my ties like tissue paper."

Peter snorted, crossing his arms over his bare, also marked, chest. "Iron will be like tearing cardboard." He pulled away from the dooframe, his sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips. Clark then realized that they weren't Peter's pants. They were his. A lump formed in Clark's throat and his mouth went dry. Peter was insatiable, and apparently, he knew how to make Clark just as addicted. Peter leaned forward, brushing his lips across Clark's. Before Clark could respond, he pulled away, a crooked smirk twisting his lips. "There's only one thing that's capable of holding me down, and he has gorgeous green eyes."

 _Something else green can hold you down._ Clark thought before he could stop himself. He still couldn't bring himself to tell Peter about the meteor rocks. He hoped that being on the far side of California would be enough to keep Peter safe. Matt hasn't found any new clues as to where Lex or the Company might be looking for them, but it still kept Clark up at night. What if they found Peter first? What if they used Kryptonite on him? He was worried that Peter couldn't endure it. Clark had his whole life to tolerate it. Peter hasn't.

He pulled away from Peter, the arousal he felt now squashed under the mental image of Peter writhing on the floor, trying to escape the ominous green glow. "I've gotta go." He said lamely, with a small smile. Peter's brows furrowed in confusion, concern flickering in his eyes.

"Okay." He replied, backing up to sit on the edge of the bed.

Clark fidgeted with his tie, trying to smooth the many wrinkles in the fabric. "Can we talk when I come back? There's some more things about me that you need to know." He asked, squaring his posture. Peter looked up, surprised, before he nodded.

"Yeah, that's fine." Peter sat up straighter, his mood lightening a bit. "Don't take too long." He took Clark's hand then, squeezing his fingers with a just a tad more strength than necessary.

A wave of warmth rushed through Clark's chest at the gesture and he squeezed back.

Peter laughed suddenly, his mouth slanting. Clark thought his crooked smiles were cute, though he would never say it out loud. He bent down to kiss the flawed corner of Peter's mouth, then kissed Peter. Their lips met and soon they fell into a slow, heated kiss, everything falling away to just the two of them.

Peter yanked his lips away after what felt like forever, panting for breath. "I love you." He blurted.

Clark froze, not sure he heard the words right. Peter sat motionless, staring at Clark with large eyes. "What did you say?"

Peter interlaced his fingers with Clark's, pressing their foreheads together. His eyes bore into Clark's, swirling brown meeting vivid green. "I love you." He said again, his tone measured and cautious.

Something broke open in Clark's chest, spilling what felt like a golden fire through his body, forcing a wide smile on his face. He felt his cheeks heat and his eyes burned, but instead of fire, they were suspiciously wet.

"I love you, too, Peter." The words left him, as firm as steel, and Peter smiled, relief sagging his shoulders. Their lips met again, broken by laughter, and they kissed feverishly. It would have gone further, but out of the corner of his eye, Clark saw the time.

He pulled away, swearing as he sped to pull his shoes on. His shirt was askew and his hair mussed, but he would deal with that later. Now, he felt like he could fly, or jump as high as the moon. Peter loved him. _Peter_ loved him. Peter _loved_ him. Peter loved _him._ No matter how he said it, it was still true and he was happy.

"Good luck today, Clark." Peter said, smiling. Peter seemed euphoric, too, and the sight made Clark want to just rip off his clothes and pin Peter down with his bare hands, like Peter wanted. He fought the urge. He's been job-hunting for nearly three months now. He would go, so they could make roots in their new lives. So they could stay. So Peter could stay. They kissed one more time, and Peter fixed Clark's hair with a sly grin. "Come back soon." Peter licked the shell of Clark's ear, forcing a shiver out of him. "I'll be waiting right here. I love you, Clark."

Clark shivered again. "I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing that. I love you, too, Peter. I'll be back before you know it." With a gust of air, he sped away.

* * *

Peter felt his breath leave him in a whoosh as Clark disappeared.

He didn't mean to blurt out those words. He knew he loved Clark for a while, but he meant to make it special. He was going to take Clark out tonight to celebrate the job Peter knew he would get. Clark was just too loveable to say no to. He was going to bring him home, pamper him, and make love to him, _then_ tell him.

 _The sappiest romantic alive_ , Nathan's voice sneered. Peter shook it off. People deserved to be treated like that from time to time.

But he was glad he said it, regardless, it was just clawing to come out ever since he realized he had fallen for the man. Every time he came home from work, _Hi, Clark. How's your day been? By the way, I'm desperately in love with you._ Every kiss Clark gives him, _You're gorgeous, Clark. Did I mention I want us to spend the rest of our lives together, even if that means a life running away from mutants and the Company who will most likely kill us?_

He was worried for Clark, though. Every time he would mention weaknesses or capture, Clark would get a haunted look on his face, and Peter knew he was missing something. He wondered if it had anything to do with those weird rocks. He knew they hurt Clark, and he saw what they did to him, but it must have been something worse than that, far worse, to scare Clark like that.

He padded barefoot over to the dresser in his room, pulling out a tshirt to pull on over his head. Today was his first day off since that stomach flu outbreak. He was glad for Clark's Kryptonian immune system. Every nurse and doctor there caught the flu at one point or another, leaving the office constantly understaffed. They had to refer more kids than necessary to other doctors and even the hospital, just to make a manageable workload. Peter could only do so much while still seeming human. It broke his heart to see the little kids crying and sick. Maybe that's why he never considered pediatric care. He didn't like seeing kids in pain. He had hoped to have a few rugrats of his own in his lifetime, but he couldn't see himself with anyone other than Clark, so that dream seemed far-fetched. Maybe if, and only if, a child with abilities needed a family, like Molly, he could convince Clark to adopt them.

Peter jumped when he heard someone knocking at the door. It couldn't be Clark. If it was, then he must have forgotten something. Or maybe it was their neighbor down the hall. They lived next to a struggling chef, who set off the building's fire alarm more times than they could count, and she loved that Peter and Clark were willing guinea pigs. She mentioned something about a weekend of non-stop baking. Maybe she started early.

He rolled the waistband of Clark's lounge pants, bringing them higher on his hips. Around Clark, he could go completely nude, but under the appreciative gaze of Lizzie, their neighbor, the more layers the better. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to look presentable, before opening the door with a friendly smile.

The smile vanished when he saw who was on the other side.

Noah Bennett stood in the doorway, hand in his pocket, most likely holding a gun of some sort, and the other hand holding the door open. He stared blankly at Peter from behind his horn-rimmed glasses, but Peter felt his eyes penetrate him, freezing him in place.

"Noah," Peter greeted with a hollow voice.

"Peter," Noah replied, with no emotion in his tone.

Peter knew he could slam the door in Noah's face, regardless of the hand held out to stop it. He would probably break his arm, or the arm would go through the door, but at the moment, Peter wanted to run. To get Clark and run away. If they found him, then Clark was as good as caught. Peter looked in the hallway, trying to keep the fear off his face. He saw that Noah was surprisingly alone.

"Where's the Haitian?" He asked, glaring at the older man. Noah stepped forward, sliding past Peter to enter the small apartment. Peter, with a snarl, shut the door and turned to face him. "Well?!"

"The Haitian and I split up. Two birds with one stone." Dread formed in Peter's stomach, making him feel sick. "An apt phrase, considering what we need to overpower him." The dread in Peter turned to acid, eating a hole in Peter's chest. The meteor rock! Then he felt his blood start to boil. He was getting hot, too hot. He was sweating, but the beads on his skin were ice cold, chilling his feverish skin. Nausea rolled through him, and his head was spinning. The room suddenly tilted on his side as he collapsed.

Pain coursed through him, his muscles spasming and cramping as he panted for breath. He looked up at Noah, and saw a glimpse of green in his hand. Noah followed his gaze and showed Peter the meteor rock in his hands, the exposed mineral glowing bright green as its poison paralyzed Peter.

He couldn't breathe. His body was locking up, every joint stiff and his blood burning. His head was pulsing with agony. The room was getting darker, the world around him turning gray.

"You can't just hand Clark over to him!" He gasped, cringing as he felt the rock come closer. He tried to shy away from it, but Noah was too fast. He pinned Peter's arms behind him, cuffing them at the wrists. He then let the rock fall away from his hand, revealing a leather cord looped through it. He yanked Peter's head back by his hair. Peter cried out as the pain registered in his weakened state. Noah looped the necklace around Peter's neck, tying it close to his throat. The stone burned where it touched Peter's skin. Peter thrashed and bucked under Noah, trying to push him away, dislodge the rock around his neck, _something!_ In a last ditch effort, he cried for help. He screamed as loud as he could for someone, anyone, to come help.

Then he screamed for Clark. As loud as he could he called Clark's name, telling him to run, to hide, that they found him. He screamed until Noah shoved a makeshift gag into Peter's mouth, tying it tight. Peter glared at the man, feeling his mind slipping away into the gray fuzziness surrounding him. The pain in his body was intense and he felt like he was dying. He wished he was dying. He tried to break away again, but he was so weak. So tired. His world was swallowed up in darkness and his consciousness followed not long after that.

* * *

He knew before he woke up that he was human again. His head was still pounding and the rock around his neck was gone. He felt his arm was restrained and he had an IV in. There was no tube in his nose, so they wanted him to wake up. They wanted him to come back. He flushed in shame. He used to be a threat. They had to chemically subdue him once or twice, but now, they made sure he knew he was no threat at all. That they knew how to control him should he get 'out of hand'.

"Peter," His eyes opened and he saw he was in Level 5. The stone cell wasn't much different from the others he had stayed in. The restraint released his arm suddenly. He flexed his perfectly normal hand, the old feelings of being human creeping up on him. The aches of sleeping on a rubber mat on a stone slab. The chill of the room reaching down to his bones. The stiffness and soreness left over from the meteor rock. The weight of his life back on his shoulders, straining the muscles of his neck. "Peter," the familiar voice called again. He slowly sat up, stretching his sore muscles, mindful of the needle in his arm. He took his time to face his visitor. He couldn't look at her. This was the last straw. No matter what she said, no matter what horrible sob story she spouted, she couldn't manipulate him anymore.

"What do you want, Ma?" He hissed, massaging the pins and needles out his legs. He didn't have to look to see her stiffen, her cold expression hiding her mind's hasty workings to find the best way to turn things in her favor.

"It took quite some time and effort to find you, son. I believe you owe me an explanation."

"I owe you nothing!" He snapped, finally looking up at her. She was as flawless as ever, a beautiful shell to a dark woman. He felt a pang in his chest as he looked at her. He did love her. He always would, but he'll never forgive her for trading Clark's life.

She didn't react to his outburst. "Peter, what we are doing is for the greater good. He would have stumbled eventually and truly hurt someone. He needs to be kept under the supervision of those who can control him."

Peter laughed bitterly. "He will be caged. Tortured. Lex will make every second of his life absolute hell." Tears were springing in Peter's eyes, but he didn't fight them, he let them overflow. "You handed that monster one of the most amazing people on this Earth." He saw his mother nod to someone out of sight, and the doors to his cell opened. He stiffened when he saw the Haitian walk in with two guards.

His mother's voice was wavering, but she held firm. "Peter, we do what we must to protect the others like us. Lex is a threat that must be won over. I will do what it takes to protect what we have accomplished."

Peter was shaking his head, slowly rising to his feet. "You can't make me forget Clark. He's mine. I won't lose him." Okay, _this_ was the absolute last straw. The guards approached him. Peter quickly pulled the needle out of his arm, the pain making him stagger. It had been so long since he felt pain. When the wound didn't seal shut, he wondered whose ability he had. He glanced at his mother again, and knew. The least offensive power he ever had at his disposal, hers. She threw him to the wolves, covered in blood. Anger burned hot in his chest as he quickly moved to the other side of the cell, staying light on his feet. The guards had taser guns, and the Haitian waited silently.

"Peter, please." His mother pleaded. Did she honestly expect him to surrender? To give up Clark completely? A guard rushed him. He used his momentum to send him head-first into the wall, but then he was shot, his back bowing under the electrical barbs in his skin. His body locked in place as pain ran through every limb, his muscles twitching. The charge stopped and he collapsed, his bones feeling like rubber. He tried to crawl away, clawing at the ground to drag himself forward, but then he was pulled up and a hand covered his eyes.

"No!" He cried, weakly fighting the Haitian's hold. "No, please! Don't! _PLEASE!_ " They were taking Clark away. He could feel it. Clark was slipping through his fingers. Tears were pouring down his cheeks as another set of hands pinned him down. He fought them, struggling in his grip, crying himself hoarse. He felt pressure in his mind, and images of Clark and Smallville dissolving. " _NO!_ " Every glimpse of Clark, every word, every kiss, they were vanishing, going blank in the darkness of his mind. Peter could hear himself babbling, begging to be let go, crying Clark's name.

 _I love you, too, Peter_ , he heard the words as clear as a bell in Clark's voice.

"Please forgive me, Peter." He heard from the Haitian.

 _NO!_ Everything went black. What he saw of Clark, and the sound of his voice, faded away into the abyss, and his mind went blank.

 _I'll find you. I promise._ Peter swore, but then everything fell out from under him. _Wait, who was he supposed to find? He loved someone, right?_ The pressure in his head was suddenly ripped away and Peter passed out.


End file.
